


Graceless

by GreyMichaela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual, Cursed Sam, M/M, Masturbation, Metatron Being a Dick, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, Sabriel Big Bang 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-season 9, Metatron has taken Gabriel’s grace. Cast out of Heaven, weak and helpless, Gabriel calls the Winchesters. </p><p>Sam finds himself with a grumpy, awkward ex-angel who has no idea how to be human. As they hunt for Gabriel’s grace, Sam is drawn to the archangel despite his better judgment.</p><p>In the middle of the search, Sam is hit with a deadly spell meant for Gabriel, and now it’s a race against time to find the cure and keep Sam alive.</p><p>And as if things weren’t complicated enough, Sam thinks he might be falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Graceless

**Author's Note:**

> Art by muirgen258

                                                                                       

 

It started with a phone call. Sam and Castiel had been in the bunker between hunts, taking a little downtime while Dean went on a supply run, when Sam’s phone rang with a number that neither recognized.

Sam answered, a little cautious, and nearly fell off the couch at the sound of Gabriel on the other end of the line, shaky and exhausted and sounding about two steps shy of sanity.

“It’s me, it’s Gabriel…” Gabriel stopped to take a breath. “I don’t know where I _am_ , Sam, I’ve never been here before, I don’t recognize anything around me, I _think_ I might be in the Midwest, but I’m not sure, and I—”

“Okay,” Sam said soothingly, making motions at Castiel to put his shoes back on. “We’re coming to find you, you hear me, Gabriel? We’re on our way. We’re going to track this number, so hang onto the phone.”

It turned out to be a payphone, one of the few still remaining in the country, and as soon as they had the coordinates, Sam insisted Castiel take him there immediately.

He found Gabriel in the back of the Stop ‘n Shop that the payphone stood in front of, huddled in a blanket and sipping a mug of hot tea as the tiny Korean shop owner hovered over him, making clucking noises and scolding him in Korean. She turned her fierce attention on Sam when he entered with his gun out, and he quickly put it away and held his hands up.

“Friends,” he said. “Um. I don’t speak Korean.”

“ _Chingu_ ,” Gabriel said, and he sounded exhausted. He set the cup down and stood up to kiss the shop owner on her wrinkled cheek before turning to Sam. “Hey, Samsquatch, did you miss me?”

Sam couldn’t decide whether to hug him or throttle him. In the end, Castiel pushed past him and wrapped Gabriel in a bear hug, speaking softly to him, and Gabriel sagged into his embrace.

“Let’s get you home,” Sam said, patting Gabriel on the shoulder and pretending he didn’t feel awkward as hell.

Back at the bunker, Gabriel curled up in a ball on the couch, shivering violently. “Is it always so cold?” he complained. “God, it’s like the frozen arctic waste in here.”

Castiel sat down next to him as Sam hurried to drag his blanket off his bed. When he came back, Gabriel was asleep, his head pillowed in the crook of his arm.

Sam draped the blanket over him and sat down in the chair opposite to wait.

It wasn’t long before Gabriel woke up, startling upright with a bitten off exclamation, his eyes wild.

“Easy,” Sam said, holding out a hand. “You’re safe. Cas is making you some hot chocolate. If he doesn’t burn down the kitchen.”

Gabriel slumped against the couch cushions and rubbed his face. His hair was shorter, he’d lost a little weight, and he had worry lines around his eyes that he hadn’t had the first time Sam had seen him, but he was still undeniably _Gabriel_ , alive and well.

“Don’t say it,” Gabriel said without looking up.

But Sam couldn’t help it. “You faked your death.”

Gabriel sighed and sat up again. “Sort of.”

“ _Sort of_?” Sam said. “How do you _sort of_ fake your own death? Either you do or you don’t!”

“It’s… complicated,” Gabriel said, and he looked _old_ , Sam realized with a jolt. Old and tired and so terribly sad, and Sam had to fight the urge to gather him into his arms and soothe away the grief carved into his face. “Lucifer damn near killed me, Sam. I was weakened, at the mercy of anyone that came along and wanted a pet archangel. And believe me, more than a few did. I’ve been a puppet on strings, passed around to be used willy-nilly.”

Horror crawled over Sam’s skin and Gabriel looked up.

“Not like _that_ ,” he said hastily, and then stopped, considering. “Well, sometimes like that. Okay, yeah, that happened too.” He lifted a shoulder. “Honestly, on the scale of ‘shitty things that have happened to me’, it doesn’t really rank that high. But I’ve fucked over a lot of people, really _powerful_ people. Gods, mostly, and they all wanted to get their licks in. I didn’t have a choice, Sam—I couldn’t contact anyone. And then I got passed off to Metatron, and I don’t want to think about what he did to… acquire me.”

Castiel came into the room carrying a tray of mugs and paused in the doorway. Gabriel didn’t notice, absorbed in his hands as he told his story.

“He bound me too, of course, and I did what he told me to do because I didn’t have a choice. But then he didn’t need me anymore. And I may be weakened, but I’m still an archangel, and keeping one of those captive is kind of like holding a tiger by the tail. He knew I’d turn on him the second I could, so he took my Grace and he dumped me in Bumfuck, Nowhere. I found a payphone and called old Bill, in Little Rock.”

“Bill Watson, the retired hunter?” Sam asked.

Gabriel nodded. “I’ve… dealt with him, in the past. I leaned on him a bit, got your number, and called you. So go ahead, Sam, yell at me for not telling you I was alive sooner. I’ve dealt with a lot worse than that over the past few years.”

Sam was pressing his hands against his stomach, struggling to keep his face calm, and Castiel stepped inside and laid the tray on the table in front of Gabriel.

“I made you hot chocolate,” he said, handing a mug to Gabriel, who accepted it gratefully and cradled it in both hands. “We’re out of whipped cream, I’m very sorry, but I hope it’s still drinkable.”

Gabriel took a sip and nodded. “It’s good, Cassie. Thank you.”

Sam stood up abruptly. “I’m going to call Dean, let him know what’s going on.” He brushed past Castiel and out the door, stopping in the hall to cover his face with his hands. Finally he took a deep breath and pulled his phone from his pocket.

~~~

Gabriel was a  _terrible_  human.  He complained about everything and whined constantly about the need to bathe and piss and eat for something other than fun, and didn’t that just open up a whole new level of complaints—the idea of eating for sustenance.  He fell asleep without warning because he wasn’t used to listening to his body’s demands, and woke up with bedhead and a worse attitude.

Sam gritted his teeth and did his best to put up with it.  He made Gabriel muffins and pancakes with too much syrup and apple cider cured bacon to go with the pancakes—that last causing Gabriel to propose on the spot.

Castiel watched from the sidelines, a furrow on his brow.  He offered several times to give Gabriel some pointers but was rejected rudely each time, until he stopped trying.

Sam finally took him aside, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  “Don’t take it personally, Cas,” he said.

Castiel rubbed his face.  “I’ve just… been in his position, Sam.  I want him to know I know what he’s going through.”

“I get that,” Sam said, patting his arm.  “But Gabriel has to figure things out for himself.  He doesn’t  _like_  taking advice or relying on others, you know that.”

Castiel just scowled.  “He is being stupid.”

That startled a laugh out of Sam.  “No arguments here, buddy.  But you know Gabe.  His way or no way.”

Gabriel poked his head out of the living room.  “This movie isn’t going to watch itself, buckos.  Get your asses in here.”

He insisted on sitting next to Sam and sharing his popcorn, as well as wiping his greasy fingers on Sam’s jeans.  Mostly, Sam suspected, for the exclamation of disgust that burst forth every time.

Gabriel just grinned at him, popcorn kernels in his teeth and a light in his golden eyes, and Sam had to stifle the wild urge to kiss him, sink his hands into that soft chestnut hair and taste popcorn and chocolate milk—a disgusting combination, Sam privately thought, but Gabriel swore it was delicious—and not let go until Gabriel was dazed and speechless.

Gabriel’s smile slipped and he cocked his head.  “Sam?”

Sam shook his head like a dog spraying drops of water and smiled at him.  “Do you  _have_  to shove your feet under my leg like that?”

Gabriel shoveled another handful of popcorn into his mouth and shrugged.  “M’ feet ‘re cold,” he mumbled through his mouthful.

“I’ll get you warmer socks,” Sam said, sighing, and focused on the movie.  Or tried to—it was difficult, with Gabriel’s feet tucked underneath his thigh the way they were, especially when Gabriel wriggled his toes.

They wandered to bed in a comfortable shamble, Gabriel insisting on being tucked up against Sam’s side for warmth because the hall was cold.  Sam made a mental note to look into space heaters.

“When does Dean get home?” Gabriel asked as Sam waited in the doorway for him to get comfortable in bed.

“Tomorrow,” Sam said.  “He says no hiccups so far, just a normal supply run.”

“Bet Cas wishes he’d gone with him anyway,” Gabriel said, wriggling around in his nest of blankets until he had it the way he liked it.

Sam just grinned.

“Think they’ll ever get their shit together?” Gabriel continued.

“Sure,” Sam said.  “As soon as Dean stops being emotionally constipated and Cas realizes Dean can’t read his thoughts.”

“So… never,” Gabriel said.  His eyes and nose were the only things visible over the edge of the blanket, and Sam resolutely did not think it was adorable.

“Goodnight, Gabe,” Sam said, and flicked the light off.

 

He was awakened in the morning by a crash from the bathroom and he was scrambling up and out of bed, gun in hand, before fully conscious. 

Castiel was coming out of his bedroom as Sam pelted by and he dashed after him.

The bathroom was a  _disaster_.  The mirror was cracked, the wastebasket against the far wall with its contents strewn everywhere, and Sam stepped on a razor when he burst into the room.  He stumbled sideways as he realized what it was, but he’d missed the blade, thankfully.

Gabriel was sitting on the floor, shaving cream on his face and hands in his lap.  Sam assessed the room swiftly but there appeared to be no threat as Castiel came panting up behind him.

Sam motioned him to wait, then shoved his gun into the waistband of his pants and approached cautiously, without sudden movements.  “Gabriel?” he said carefully.

Gabriel glanced up, tears on his cheeks making tracks through the shaving lather, and Sam’s eyes widened as he saw them.  Gabriel blinked and scrubbed at his face, turning his head away, and Sam looked at Castiel, still hovering in the doorway.

“Cas, why don’t you go get breakfast started?” he said.

Castiel blinked.  “I… I suppose I can try, Sam,” he said, glancing at Gabriel before turning away.

Sam knelt beside Gabriel.  “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Gabriel lifted a shoulder.

Sam waited.

Gabriel stared at his lap and finally sighed.  “I miss my Grace,” he whispered.

“I know,” Sam said, fighting the urge to touch him.  “We’re going to get it back, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said dully.

“What happened?” Sam asked, glancing around the room.

“I was trying to shave,” Gabriel said.  “I got… frustrated.  Kept nicking myself.”

“I don’t see any cuts,” Sam said, looking closer.

“Because I still have enough Grace to heal them,” Gabriel said.  “I could probably heal a bruise for you.   _Maybe_  even a broken ankle, if the break wasn’t too bad and I had time to recharge after.  But that’s it, Sam, that’s all I can fucking do and I hate it, I’m so  _sick_  of it, I can’t—” He clamped trembling hands over his mouth and Sam’s heart broke all over again for him.

“Okay,” he said gently, pulling Gabriel’s hands down and covering them with both of his.  “Okay, how about I shave you?”

Gabriel jerked away. “I don’t need your help, Sam. I’m a big boy, I should be able to do this myself.”

Sam hesitated, trying to figure out the approach he should take. “You’ve never been human before,” he said carefully. “Of course you’re going to have a learning curve, Gabe. It’s okay to need help, and I don’t think any less of you for it.”

Silence fell as Gabriel considered. Finally he sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But just this once.”

“Of course,” Sam said, smiling at him.  “I’ll show you how I do it, and next time you’ll be able to do it yourself.”

He picked up the razor and inspected the remnants of the lather that Gabriel had applied.  “Probably better if we wash this off and start over,” he said.

Gabriel nodded and levered himself to his feet to obey.  When his face was clean and re-lathered, Sam took a deep breath.

“Just… hold still,” he said.  “I realize that may not be very easy for you, but it’s still early, so you probably haven’t had any sugar yet, right?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Sam’s gentle teasing but didn’t move as Sam took his chin in two fingers and turned his head to the side to begin.

“Depending on how close a shave you want, you can start going with the grain and then re-lather and shave again, against the grain.  Drag the razor down, like this,” Sam said, demonstrating.

Gabriel was intently watching Sam’s hands in the mirror.  It was quiet in the room, broken by the sound of their breathing and running water when Sam turned on the faucet.

Sam tilted Gabriel’s head to shave his neck, tongue caught between his teeth as he moved in smooth, careful slides of the razor.

“Still cold?” he murmured.

Gabriel mumbled something that sounded like assent.

“I’ll go shopping for warmer stuff for you today,” Sam said.

Gabriel took advantage of Sam rinsing the razor to say, “Can I go with you?”

“Sure, if you want,” Sam said.  “I just figured you’d be happier here.”

“Going stir-crazy,” Gabriel said, tilting his head back again so Sam could get a better angle at his throat.

“Okay then,” Sam said.  He rinsed the razor off one final time and smiled down into Gabriel’s eyes.  “How’s that?” he asked.

Gabriel inspected the job Sam had done, turning his head back and forth to get a better look, and finally nodded.  “Sorry,” he said to the sink.

Sam slapped him lightly on the shoulder.  “Forget about it.  Rinse your face and let’s go eat breakfast, see if Cas has managed to burn the place down yet.”

Gabriel obeyed as Sam picked up the mess on the bathroom floor. When Sam was done, he straightened and looked at Gabriel, who was leaning against the sink watching him.

“Helping didn’t occur to you, I take it?” Sam said, his lips twitching.

“Sorry,” Gabriel said, looking chagrined. He tugged at the bottom of his T-shirt. “I….”

Sam gestured toward the door. “Teasing, Gabe. I do it a lot. Come on, let’s go eat.”

They walked down the hallway in comfortable silence and found Castiel in the kitchen, enveloped in a cloud of black smoke, waving his arms futilely and coughing.

Sam swore and dove for the toaster as more smoke belched out.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel managed through his coughs, “I thought it would cook faster on the higher settings, I didn’t—” He broke off to cough again and Gabriel pounded him on the back as Sam emptied the toaster into the trash.

“Thanks for trying,” Sam said. He turned back to see a woebegone look on Castiel’s face. “Oh, hey,” Sam said hastily. “Cas, it’s fine, look. I’ll make French toast for everyone, okay? No harm done.”

Castiel sat down at the table, slightly mollified, and Gabriel joined him as Sam began pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

His phone rang distantly from his bedroom, and Sam jerked his head up. “Kinda surprised I can hear it all the way out here,” he said. “Be right back, guys.” He dashed down the hallway and caught the phone just before it went to voicemail.

“Took you long enough, Sammy!” Dean’s voice was a little tinny through the phone’s speaker, but he sounded cheerful over the roar of the Impala’s engine and Sam relaxed a little.

“Sorry,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“No dice yet on the you-know-what for you-know-who,” Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes yet. “You’re at least two hours away and Gabriel’s in the kitchen, Dean, I don’t think the code is necessary.”

“Well, I don’t know, do I?” Dean retorted. “You might have been cuddling in bed or something!”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “How’s the weather in Fantasyland?” he asked. “Is it nice this time of year?”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped. “Look, I talked to a witch about the situation.”

“Is she still alive?” Sam asked dryly.

“Yes, she’s alive,” Dean snarled. “I wanted to kill her but she didn’t give me a reason.”

“That _bitch_ ,” Sam said, fighting a grin.

“Would you knock it off and listen?” Dean complained. “She didn’t know anything about angel shit, but she pointed me in the direction of someone who does. He’s a researcher, knows more about angel lore than anyone else alive, apparently.”

“That’s great,” Sam said, glancing toward the door. Gabriel and Castiel would be wondering where he was soon. “Where does he live?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Dean said, “but… Lebanon.”

“Are you serious?” Sam demanded.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I’m on my way. See you this afternoon.”

The line went dead and Sam shoved the phone in his pocket as he hurried back to the kitchen.

Castiel had turned the French toast in the skillet over before it could burn, and Sam gave him an appreciative smile.

“Was that Dean?” Castiel asked as he sat back down at the table.

“Yeah, he’s on his way back,” Sam said. “Should be here later today.” He couldn’t help the twinge of amusement at the way Castiel perked up at this news, but he didn’t comment on it, setting the first piece of French toast in front of Gabriel. “Syrup’s there, powdered sugar if you prefer it is here.”

Gabriel grabbed both.

 

True to his word, Sam took Gabriel into town after breakfast to do some shopping.

“We’ll have to go to Hastings,” he told Gabriel as they buckled themselves into Castiel’s hideously ugly sedan. “About an hour drive.”

Gabriel let his head fall back against the seat and he moaned a little.

Sam resisted the urge to pat his knee. “Don’t worry,” he said, pulling out onto the road, “we’ll stop and get junk food, just for you.”

Gabriel perked up at that. “Twizzlers?” he asked hopefully.

“If you insist on eating strawberry flavored plastic, sure,” Sam said.

Gabriel started getting restless after the first twenty minutes.  After five minutes of him squirming and twitching, tapping his foot on the floorboard, switching stations on the radio and generally driving Sam mad, Sam had had enough.

“So tell me again what you know about what happened to you,” he said, turning the staticky radio off.

Gabriel dropped his hands to his lap and sighed. “I’ve already told you,” he pointed out.

“But maybe we missed something,” Sam persisted. “Maybe going over it again would give us another clue.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Metatron had me at his tender mercies for a long time. I don’t know exactly how long.”

“And he took your Grace.” Sam nodded, focused on the road, but he didn’t miss the way Gabriel twisted his hands together in his lap.

“He used me to send a few messages first,” Gabriel said. “Fitting, I guess, since I’m the Messenger and all that jazz.” He stared out the window, resting his head against the glass.

“So he tossed you just before Cas and Hannah threw him in angel jail,” Sam said, still carefully not looking at Gabriel. “But he hid your Grace first. Is that right?”

“What was left of it, yeah,” Gabriel whispered. “He said I could find it, if I looked hard enough, that he’d left me clues. I have no idea what they are, though.”

“We’re going to find it,” Sam said again.

“You keep saying that,” Gabriel said, staring out the window, “but you don’t believe it any more than I do.”

Sam sighed and turned his attention back to the traffic.

At Wal-mart, Gabriel insisted on loading the cart with candy, over Sam’s protests.

“You’re going to rot your teeth!” Sam said.

Gabriel smiled at him. “I _do_ know how to use a toothbrush, Sammykins.”

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t argue when Gabriel added a package of Twizzlers to the cart.

They headed for the clothing department next, and Sam found the thickest socks possible, as well as sweatpants and a fleece sweater that Gabriel nuzzled his face into with a happy sigh.

“It’s like the embodiment of a warm hug,” he said, smiling at Sam over the material.

Sam smiled and looked away.

 

The ride home was quiet and Gabriel dozed off halfway back to the bunker, his head pillowed against his new sweater. Sam watched his profile, that clever mouth lax with sleep, the worry lines that seemed permanently etched into Gabriel’s forehead, and had to fight the urge to smooth them away, to run a thumb over Gabriel’s lips and tease a smile from him.

 _He’s millennia older than you,_ he reminded himself. _He’s stronger and smarter and tougher. He’d laugh at you or possibly bite you if you tried to comfort him._

Sam sighed, tightening his grip on the wheel.

 

Dean was home when they arrived back at the bunker, the Impala parked outside, and Sam gently shook Gabriel awake.

“We’re here,” he said. “Dean’s back, too.”

Gabriel startled upright and rubbed his face. “Maybe we should leave the lovebirds alone awhile,” he suggested.

Sam snorted a laugh and unbuckled. “Five’ll get you ten they’re sitting there pretending everything’s normal and they’re not stupid in love.”

“Sucker bet,” Gabriel said, and loaded himself down with groceries.

 

Dean was delighted to see them, bounding forward to give Sam a hug and then take some of his bags from him.

“Heya, Deano,” Gabriel said brightly. “Don’t I get a hug too?”

Dean scowled at him and turned back to Sam as Gabriel snickered. “So I’m going to talk to that guy tomorrow, you in?”

“Are we bringing the angels?” Sam asked, setting the groceries down on the kitchen table.

Dean shrugged. “I guess. I mean, if they want to come.”

Castiel appeared in the doorway, his hair even more mussed than usual, and Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at Sam and back at Castiel, but said nothing as Castiel began putting the groceries away.

“I was thinking we’d get caught up on Game of Thrones tonight,” Dean said. “Cas, you in?”

Castiel nodded, putting a jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. “Certainly, Dean, although I still don’t understand your fascination with that world. Everyone keeps dying.”

“That’s part of the charm!” Dean protested. “You never know whether your favorites are safe or not, you’re always on the edge of your seat. Sam, Gabe, you guys gonna watch with us?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to turn in early,” Sam said. “I’m tired and I want to be rested for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, me too,” Gabriel chimed in.

“Losers,” Dean mumbled. He bumped Castiel with his shoulder. “Just you and me, buddy.”

“I’m sure it will be very enjoyable even without our brothers,” Castiel said.

“Maybe even more so,” Gabriel muttered, and escaped out the door before Dean could confront him.

 

Sam made sure Gabriel was comfortable in bed before turning in. He crawled into his own bed and burrowed down into the blankets, getting comfortable with a sigh. Gabriel was right—Sam wasn’t nearly as confident about getting Gabriel’s Grace back as he pretended. But there was no way he was admitting that out loud.

They’d figure something out. They always did.

Sam rolled over and fell asleep.

He was awakened by his door creaking open sometime in the night, and he lunged for the gun under his pillow and was drawing a bead on the shadowy figure in the doorway when it spoke.

“It’s me,” Gabriel whispered. “I—”

Sam shoved the gun back under the pillow and was on his feet immediately, crossing to the door.

Gabriel was trembling, Sam realized, arms wrapped around his midsection and a miserable look on his face.

“What is it?” Sam said quietly. “Bad dream?”

Gabriel nodded jerkily. “And I’m—” He cut himself off and shivered violently.

“Still cold,” Sam said.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel whispered. “I can’t get warm, I—”

“Come on,” Sam murmured. He took Gabriel’s arm and tugged him gently toward the bed.

Gabriel stumbled after him and crawled onto the mattress, and Sam climbed in after him. He pulled the blankets up over them both and gathered Gabriel against him, wrapping him in warmth.

Gabriel was still trembling, his frame wracked with tiny tremors, and he squirmed backward, pressing himself further into Sam’s body heat.

Sam could feel Gabriel’s heart beating under his hand, fast and rabbity, and he dropped a featherlight kiss on Gabriel’s hair.

“Sleep,” he whispered.

Gabriel snuffled a sigh and obeyed.

 

Sam woke up warm and comfortable and desperately needing to pee but not wanting to move. Gabriel was a solid weight across Sam’s right arm, his hair brushing Sam’s nose. He smelled like coconut and papaya, the “girly” shampoo Sam liked that Dean teased him about constantly—apparently Gabriel had been making use of it.

Gabriel stirred and stretched, leaning back against Sam’s chest.

“Morning,” Sam murmured.

Gabriel rolled his head enough that he could see Sam’s face. His eyes were sleepy and he wrinkled his nose. “’f you say so,” he mumbled.

Sam laughed quietly. “Nothing wrong with mornings,” he said.

The door bounced open before Gabriel could respond.

“Up and at ‘em, Sammy!” Dean said, and then did a double take at the sight of Gabriel undeniably _cuddling_ with Sam. “You said you weren’t sleeping with him!” he roared.

Sam sat bolt upright and Gabriel rolled off and sat up too, yawning again.

“I’m _not_ ,” Sam said.

Dean gestured wordlessly at the bed and Sam grimaced.

“Okay, I am, I did, whatever, but I’m not _sleeping_ with him, we’re not having sex, Dean, and anyway it’s none of your business!”

“It’s very much my business when you start getting way too involved with angels who have no concept of permanence or loyalty!” Dean shouted.

“ _Hey_ ,” Gabriel protested, clearly stung. “Just because I didn’t pick a side in Heaven’s fight doesn’t mean I’m not _loyal_ , and fuck you too! Sam’s a big boy, why don’t you let him choose?”

“There’s nothing _to_ choose!” Sam said, scrambling to his feet. “I slept with you— _slept_ only—because you were cold, Gabriel, not because I have feelings for you or something!”

Gabriel gazed up at him. “So… you don’t have feelings for me?” he said, his lower lip quivering a bit.

“Of course not!” Sam said, shoving his hands through his hair. “I like you, Gabe, a lot, but only as a friend.”

Gabriel glanced at his lap briefly and Sam bit his lip, but then Gabriel was looking up, nothing but amusement in his eyes.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, and stood up. “Please excuse me, I have to go piss. _Again_.” He brushed past Dean, still in the doorway, and disappeared down the hall.

Dean glanced at Sam, who lifted a warning finger.

“Not a word,” he said.

“Whatever, man,” Dean said. “Can you please get ready so we can go? This Braithwaite guy is expecting us and we’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on.”

 

They all piled into the Impala, the angels in the backseat. Sam could hear them talking quietly in Enochian but he didn’t bother trying to listen. If they’d wanted to be heard, they’d have spoken English.

“So tell me about this guy,” he said as Dean started the engine.

“His name is Christian Braithwaite,” Dean said, pulling out onto the road and opening the Impala up. “Don’t know much more than that, and the fact that he’s apparently studied angel and demon lore all his life. He’s _the_ expert in the field.”

“Braithwaite,” Sam mused. “Why does that name ring a bell?”

“Robert Braithwaite’s journal is in the bunker library,” Castiel said from the backseat. “Perhaps that’s where you saw it?”

Sam snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Thanks, Cas. Yeah, I read bits and pieces of that when I was going through the library. I wonder if they’re related?”

“Probably,” Gabriel muttered. “What’re the odds? Two dickheads named Braithwaite in the town with three hundred people?” His arms were crossed over his chest and he was staring out the window at the passing scenery.

Sam watched him in the mirror for a minute. Gabriel’s eyes looked… sad, Sam thought, but maybe he was reading too much into things again.

Dean pulled up in front of an old, white farmhouse with a sagging front porch and a yard full of ragged weeds. He parked and climbed out of the vehicle and Sam turned to the angels. “You guys want to stay here and wait until we know if it’s clear?”

Gabriel gave him a disbelieving look and opened his door. Castiel waited until he’d stepped out before saying in a low voice, “You are incredibly dense at times, Sam Winchester.”

“ _I’m_ dense?” Sam sputtered, scrambling to catch up to the others. He fumed silently up the sidewalk and waited as Dean rapped on the door.

They waited several minutes and then the mail slot creaked open and a shotgun barrel emerged, pointed directly at Dean’s crotch. Dean gulped and his hands twitched as if he wanted to cover himself, and a voice as creaky as the door said, “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?”

Dean shot Sam a helpless look.

“I thought you said he was expecting us,” Sam hissed.

“He _is_!” Dean protested.

Gabriel stepped forward. “We’re looking for a Christian Braithwaite. We were told he lives here.”

There was the clunk of locks being thrown and the door groaned open. A tiny, wizened woman glared up at them, her steel grey hair pulled into a haphazard bun on the back of her head and eyes bluer than Castiel’s sparking with anger. “What do you want with me?” she demanded.

Dean was clearly thrown, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, and Gabriel rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

“Gabriel. Archangel. Nice to meet you. We were hoping you could help us, we have kind of a problem.”

Christian’s eyes went huge and she looked at Sam, who lifted a shoulder, and then Dean, who was still trying to figure out what to say, and finally Castiel, standing ramrod straight.

Finally she set the shotgun down and stepped aside. “I suppose you’d better come in,” she said.

The men all filed into the dim interior and looked around with interest. Musty newspapers, yellowed with age, were piled in leaning stacks along the walls. The air was thick with dust and Sam suppressed a sneeze with effort as Christian led them into a library, the walls lined with books of all shapes and sizes, and waved at an ancient horsehair sofa.

“You can sit there,” she said. She lowered herself carefully into a sagging armchair and stared piercingly at all four as they found seats on the sofa.

 _We look ridiculous_ , Sam thought, and suddenly he was fighting laughter.

Christian’s eyes narrowed and she pointed at him. “You. Tell me what you’re here for.”

Sam sobered immediately. “I, uh.”

Gabriel was next to Sam, his thigh pressed up against Sam’s in a long line of heat, and he leaned forward. “I’ve lost my grace and we need to get it back,” he said baldly. “We were told you were the person who could help.” He glanced at Dean. “We were _also_ told you were a man.”

Christian snickered. “Lot of people think that. My pa, he wanted a boy. Named me Christian, said I could go by Chris if I wanted. I never really saw the point. People don’t like me, they can suck on a lemon for all I care. Prove that you’re an angel and I’ll think about helping you.”

The abrupt switch had Sam blinking but Gabriel didn’t miss a beat. “Got any cuts or bruises?”

Christian shook her head and Gabriel gnawed on his lip.

“That’s about all I’m good for healing right now,” he admitted.

“Show me your wings,” Christian said.

“ _No_ ,” Gabriel snapped, and everyone in the room looked taken aback. “I mean,” he continued in a more moderate tone of voice, “I’d… rather not.”

Castiel sighed and stood up. “Gabriel is my brother. I’m a seraph, not an archangel, but if I show you my wings, will that prove to you that we are indeed angels?”

Christian nodded and Castiel unfurled his wings. Their shadow stretched out along the wall, and Christian stared, awed.

“Alright,” she said abruptly. “How’d you lose your grace?”

Castiel sat back down and Gabriel gave her a run-through of all that had happened, starting with Metatron capturing him up until he’d found himself abruptly freed, hungry and exhausted, barefoot on the side of the road, just before Metatron had been thrown in angel prison.

“I have… remnants,” he said. “I can heal stuff, maybe teleport a teacup across the room, but that’s about it.”

Christian looked thoughtful. “And he’s hidden the remainder of it?”

“What he didn’t use in making sure Heaven stayed locked, yeah,” Gabriel said. “If I could get my hands on it, I could add to what I have, recharge for awhile, and be back up to full strength pretty quickly. As it is, I’m… useless.” He stopped and Sam touched his knee. Gabriel looked up at him and away again and Sam pulled his hand back.

“So why do you need me?” Christian was asking.

“Because you know more about angels than anyone, including possibly… angels,” Dean said, squirming on the hard sofa. “And because we were hoping you’d be able to help us figure out _how_ to get his grace back.”

Christian snorted. “Boy, I can barely figure out how to work my _toaster_ some days, I’m not sure what use I’m going to be to you.”

“She and Cas oughta get along great,” Gabriel muttered under his breath, and Sam couldn’t help his snicker.

Christian was looking at Gabriel, squinting a little, and he shifted his weight under her measuring gaze.

“Is there something on my face?” he finally asked.

Christian shook her head. “Do you own dogs?” she said abruptly.

“No…” Gabriel said, looking baffled.

“What about you, the big one?” she asked, pointing at Sam. “You look like a dog lover. Any dogs at home?”

Sam was just as much at sea. He shook his head wordlessly.

“Why do you ask?” Gabriel said carefully.

Christian raised a shoulder, still staring at him. “Because I’m seeing a white Labrador when I look at you.”

“Huh?” Gabriel said.

“Oh, didn’t the pretty one tell you?” Christian said. “I’m also a psychic.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned around Gabriel to stare at Dean, who looked as stunned as Sam felt.

“I’m not very powerful,” Christian was saying, leaning back in her chair, “but my _God_ , that white Lab is all I can see when I look at you, young man.” She pointed at Dean. “As for you….”

Dean stiffened but said nothing.

“You need to get off your ass and say something, boy,” Christian said. “He won’t wait forever.”

“Oh, you sensed that or read it in my aura or some bullshit like that, is that it?” Dean said, his lip curling.

Christian snorted. “No, you idiot, I knew the minute you walked through my door that you were in love with the seraph. You’d best tell him, and soon, before you lose him.”

“Well, this has been lovely,” Dean said, surging to his feet. He grabbed Castiel and hauled him upright as Sam and Gabriel stood too. “But it’s time for us to be… _not_ here.” He was out of the living room and gone, dragging a protesting Castiel behind him, before anyone could say anything.

“So,” Gabriel said. “White Lab.”

Christian shrugged. “Sorry I can’t help you more, kiddo.”

Sam held out a hand and she shook it. “Thank you anyway. If we think of anything else, may we come back?”

“Sure, sure,” Christian said dismissively. “I’m old, I don’t have a life. You come back any time, you and the archangel. I like you two.”

 

Outside on her porch, Sam and Gabriel looked at each other and then at Dean and Castiel, by the car and arguing, judging by the tense set of their shoulders.

“Well, that was informative,” Gabriel said, and shivered, rubbing his arms in the crisp autumn breeze.

“Come on, let’s get you into the car where it’s warm,” Sam said.

Dean shut up when he saw them approaching and slid behind the wheel, his mouth tight, as Castiel got into the backseat, looking puzzled and unhappy.

The ride home was silent and Sam divided his time between watching Gabriel, back to staring out the window, and Dean, who was glowering at the road as if daring it to say something.

When they parked, Sam was the first out of the car. “Cas,” he said, “I want to talk to Metatron. Can you take me to him?”

Castiel’s mouth drew down and he hunched his shoulders. “I don’t—”

Dean bristled. “He shouldn’t have to see that douchebag, after everything Metatron put him through. Why do you want to talk to him, anyway?”

“Because he’s the only one that actually knows where Gabriel’s grace is!” Sam retorted. “Because if I can convince him to talk, maybe Gabriel will actually be _whole_ again, instead of shuffling around cold and miserable all the time!”

“Well, find another way!” Dean snapped.

“Stop fighting!” Castiel said, stepping between them. “Sam, I will take you. Gabriel, do you want to come along?”

Gabriel nodded and Castiel reached out and gripped each of their shoulders.

Sam blinked and they were standing in a stone hallway, lined with cells all along one side. He turned to Castiel first, who looked thunderous.

“Dude, you left Dean behind.”

“I can speak for myself,” Castiel said, glaring up at him. “I don’t need Dean to fight my battles for me, and the sooner he learns that, the better.”

Another voice interrupted them before Sam could respond. “Well! Visitors! How very lovely to see you all. If I’d known you were coming, I would have put on the kettle!”

Sam turned to look into the cell at Metatron, who was perched on a stone bench, his legs demurely crossed and hands folded on his knee.

“Save it,” Sam suggested. “We just need to know what you did with Gabriel’s grace.”

Metatron pouted, poking out his lower lip and frowning up at Sam through the bars. “Sam, Sammy, where’s the love? You’re not even gonna lube me up, you’re just gonna ram it home?”

Gabriel held up a finger. “Okay, one—gross. And two— _gross_. Just tell us where you put it, douchenozzle, and we’ll be on our way.”

Castiel stepped forward, smoothing out his coat. “Metatron, if you’ll tell us where Gabriel’s Grace is, perhaps I can arrange for a little… commutation of your sentence.”

“Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean?” Metatron said, standing up. “You’ll shave a hundred years off the back end of my time? Considering I’m in here for the rest of my life and I’m _immortal_ , I don’t think that’s gonna work out too well for you!”

Castiel glared at him. “I _meant_ , maybe we can get you some kind of… parole.”

Metatron perked up. “Would this parole involve tropical islands?”

“Forget it,” Sam said, turning on his heel. “This was a long shot anyway. He’s never going to tell us anything.” He strode away down the hall, counting under his breath, and sure enough, Metatron called after him before he’d gotten to five.

 _“Wait_ ,” he said. “Come back, Sam, I was just having some fun!”

Sam turned around to see Metatron pressing his face against the bars, giving him woeful puppy eyes. Sam came back, using his height to tower over the much shorter angel.

“Talk,” he said.

“Well, I can’t tell you _everything_ , obviously,” Metatron said, taking a step back and rubbing his hands together. “It wouldn’t be a game if I did.”

“It’s not a game now, you asshole!” Gabriel burst out.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Metatron said, grinning at him.

Sam put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Let me do the talking,” he murmured. “Take Cas and maybe go talk to Hannah or something.”

“No, I want to listen,” Gabriel said. “I’ll be quiet, Sam, I promise.”

Sam wavered, but Gabriel stared up at him with pleading eyes and Sam folded like a cheap deck of cards. “Not a word,” he hissed, and turned back to Metatron. “So what are you willing to tell us?”

Metatron had sat back down on his bench. He shrugged, inspecting his cuticles. “First Castiel tells me what he’s willing to do for _me_.”

Castiel ground his teeth, but finally he spoke. “A week on a tropical island, under full guard, _no_ contact with humans. Any breach and you’ll be yanked back here immediately.”

“Well, that’s good for at least _one_ clue,” Metatron said happily. “Which should I tell you…” He rubbed his chin, pretending to think, and then brightened. “Okay, how about this—I put a clue to finding it in a television show that I _know_ Gabriel watched.”

“Do you have any _idea_ how many TV shows I’ve seen?” Gabriel said, and held up his hands when Sam glared at him. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just—we don’t have _time_ for this shit!”

“It’s a recent show, if that helps,” Metatron said, smiling even wider.

“We’re done,” Sam said through his teeth. “Cas? Get us home.”

Castiel didn’t wait to be told again. He grabbed Sam and Gabriel and pulled them through the dimensions, depositing them in the living room of the bunker, making Dean yelp and drop his gun.

“You’re lucky I was cleaning it and it’s not loaded!” Dean snapped, glaring at them.

Sam sighed. “We didn’t get anything much from Metatron. And not that all the latent sexual tension isn’t just a blast to be around,” he said, making Dean bristle, “but I’ve had about as much as I can take for one day. I’m going to go work in the basement for awhile, see if I can get a jump on cataloging some of the shit that’s down there.” He stopped. “Why are you cleaning your guns in here instead of a well-ventilated area?”

Dean shrugged. “I wanted to be sure I knew when you guys came back,” he mumbled.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Right. Well. I’ll be downstairs.” He headed that way at top speed and nearly jumped out of his skin when he glanced behind him and realized that Gabriel was on his heels.

Gabriel met his eyes, lifting his chin. “You think I want to stick around while they stare longingly at each other?” he said.

“You have a point,” Sam admitted. “Come on, then, and don’t touch _anything_.”

“As if I would,” Gabriel sniffed.

Sam pushed the door to the basement open and Gabriel followed him inside, sneezing several times in rapid succession.

“Sorry about the dust,” Sam said as he flicked the lights on and gazed at the rows upon rows of metal shelves and the motley assortments resting on them.

Gabriel wiped his nose on his sleeve and wandered down one of the aisles. “Oh hey, sex pollen, Sam!” he called.

“Do _not touch_ ,” Sam hissed. “The last thing we need is a ‘fuck or die’ scenario.”

“Granted,” Gabriel said as he disappeared down another aisle, his voice floating out behind him. “But come on, even you have to admit to being tempted to dump that shit all over our brothers and let them work out their issues in their own time.”

Sam suppressed a laugh with effort and set to work.   After a few minutes, Gabriel appeared next to him and watched.

“So what exactly is it you’re doing?” he asked.

“Mostly just cataloging,” Sam said, setting down a small milky green statue of a woman with ample hips and pendulous breasts. “Here, you can help. Grab that notebook and write down ‘Fertility goddess, jade, believed to engender multiples in pregnant women’.”

Gabriel obeyed, scribbling industriously as they moved down the aisle.

“I’m making sure the items match the notes,” Sam said, “and describing the ones that don’t _have_ notes.” He picked up a small mahogany box and frowned. “No description on this one,” he muttered half to himself. “Mahogany box, four inches by six, with what looks like the Chinese symbol for death on the cover.”

Gabriel wrote quickly and then leaned over to get a better look at the box. “ _Put it down,_ Sam.”

Sam obeyed, startled, and Gabriel hissed under his breath. “That’s not Chinese—it’s Enochian. And it’s not quite death,” he said, balancing himself with a hand on Sam’s arm. Sam held very still as Gabriel examined the box, turning it sideways with the tip of the pen. “Or rather, it does mean death, but more than that. It’s like… the embodiment of slow, malicious murder.” He wiped his fingers on his shirt, even though he hadn’t touched the box. “I’d imagine this would be used to kill someone you really hated, as slowly as possible.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Lovely,” he muttered. “How is it triggered, do you know?”

Gabriel shrugged, writing quickly. His handwriting was quick but elegant, with lots of looping letters and swoops and flourishes. Much like the angel himself, Sam thought, and then rolled his eyes at his flight of fancy.

“No idea,” Gabriel was saying as he wrote. “I can’t even tell how you open the damn thing, but I would suggest you not try. Likely it’s meant to attach itself to the first person that pops the lid.”

A shiver skittered down Sam’s spine and he moved on to the next item. “No description on this one either,” he said. “Long ivory object, shaped sort of like a… wand? But thicker. There are carvings along the sides, but they don’t make any sense.”

Gabriel was snickering as he wrote and Sam narrowed his eyes.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“Pretty sure it’s a dildo, Sammy,” Gabriel managed.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he looked back at the ivory wand. “You mean… oh. _Oh._ ”

Gabriel picked it up and turned it around. “Look,” he choked between giggles. “It’s even ribbed for her pleasure.” He went off into a gale of laughter and Sam rescued the dildo before Gabriel dropped it.

“Okay, I’ll grant you that’s what it _looks_ like, but that can’t be what it’s actually… _for_ ,” Sam protested.

Gabriel tilted his head and gave Sam a look that almost seemed affectionate. “Samalicious, do you think that yours is the first generation to use sex toys? Trust me, kiddo, it ain’t. This puppy here, in fact, looks to be at least five hundred years old. And I would imagine it’s been used in many a creative way over the centuries.”

Sam swallowed hard and gestured vaguely at the notebook. “Well… write it down,” he muttered, and moved on to the next item.

They worked their way through several more shelves before Gabriel started getting restless.

“Lunch?” Sam finally suggested, and Gabriel’s eyes lit up.

They left the basement and Gabriel shivered again, rubbing his arms.

“Still cold?” Sam said.

Gabriel shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Except I don’t like seeing you miserable,” Sam said as they climbed the stairs. An idea occurred to him and he stopped outside his room. “Wait just a second,” he said, and ducked inside.

He was back in under a minute and Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up at the enormous sweater Sam was holding.

“You’ve _got_ to be joking,” Gabriel said. “That thing will _swallow_ me!”

Sam held it out to him, smiling. “It’s also the warmest thing I own. You can roll up the sleeves, and because it’s so big, you can wear it over the top of your regular clothes.”

Gabriel accepted the dark green sweater dubiously and examined it. Sam lifted a sleeve for Gabriel to look at.

“See how tight the stitches are?” he said. “It’s made with a heavy wool yarn, and the tight stitches make for a fabric that keeps in heat instead of letting it disperse. Plus it wears like iron and can take just about anything you throw at it.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows were nearly to his hairline, and Sam shrugged.

“I dated a girl who liked to knit, way back when,” he said.

Gabriel fingered the material and then tugged it on over his head. He emerged from the neck hole blinking and rumpled and Sam looked away and coughed.

“Here,” he said, and took Gabriel’s wrist to roll up the sleeve. He repeated the process on the other side and looked up to see Gabriel watching him silently. “What?” Sam said.

“Nothing,” Gabriel said. He stroked the sweater front and smiled. “It’s nice.” He looked up and met Sam’s eyes. “Thank you. Wanna watch a movie tonight?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not Game of Thrones,” Sam said, and turned to head for the kitchen as Gabriel snickered and fell into step beside him.

They ate lunch with Dean and Castiel, who seemed to be determined not to make eye contact with each other. Sam caught Gabriel’s eye and suppressed a laugh with difficulty.

After the meal, Dean put his dishes in the sink and cleared his throat. “Thinking I’ll go fill up Baby,” he said. “Anyone want to come with?”

Gabriel and Sam looked at each other and kept their mouths firmly shut. Castiel glanced between them and then back to Dean.

“I… would like to join you,” he said, sounding diffident. “Would that be… all right with you?”

“Of course,” Dean said instantly, and Sam could read the relief in the set of his shoulders. “I mean, you’ll probably be pretty bored, man, I’m just going to the gas station, but….” He shrugged and Castiel smiled at him.

“I always enjoy your company, Dean,” he said.

An awkward silence fell and finally Sam stood up, clearing his throat. “I’m gonna go get back to work.”

“I’ll come with you,” Gabriel said hastily, and dashed after him. They headed down the hall and Gabriel waited until they were out of earshot of the kitchen before sighing. “Seriously,” he said, glancing behind them, “this is getting ridiculous.”

“No arguments here,” Sam said.

Back in the basement, Gabriel picked up the notebook and they started down the next row.

About halfway along, Sam paused and peered at the set of four cuffs on the shelf. “Bronze cuffs,” he said out loud. “No provenance on them, but there’s a shitload of sigils worked on all four, they look Enochian. Can you read what they say?”

Gabriel picked one of the cuffs up and turned it in his hands as his eyebrows went up. He made a choking noise that he turned into a cough, and he set the cuff back on the shelf.

“It’s Enochian alright,” he said, scribbling in the notebook.

“Well, what do they say?” Sam asked.

Gabriel lifted a shoulder, still writing industriously. “Basically, it strips the wearer of power. Locks their Grace away. Obviously it only works on angels—it’d just be a very pretty set of accessories on you.”

Sam looked back at the cuffs. “Huh. I wonder what they were used for?”

“Oh, I can think of several uses,” Gabriel said, and leered.

Sam glared at him. “Do you _ever_ think about anything other than sex?”

Gabriel’s leer melted into a laugh. “Of course I do, Sammy, but your provincial outrage is so cute, I have to see it as much as possible!” He grinned up at him and Sam fought his own smile, moving to the next item.

The next several hours passed quickly and finally Sam stretched, sighing happily as his spine popped.

“About ready for that movie?” he asked.

Gabriel nodded, setting a delicate gold filigree necklace back on the shelf. “Anything in particular you wanted to watch?” he asked. He turned around to see Sam’s face, walking backward up the aisle toward the door.

Sam opened his mouth to answer but several things happened at once. Gabriel tripped and flung his hand out to steady himself. His baggy sleeve swept several items off the shelf and time slowed as they fell and Sam realized in swelling horror that one of the things falling was the little mahogany box that Gabriel had pointed out to him earlier.

There was no time to stop and think. The box hit the floor, bouncing, and Sam hurled himself at Gabriel in a long, low dive.

They landed in a tangle of limbs and there was a moment of breathless silence. Finally Gabriel shoved at Sam’s shoulder. “Not that it’s not appreciated, but think you could let me up?”

Sam lifted his head, feeling stupid. “Right. Sorry.” He scrambled to his feet and pulled Gabriel upright.

“What the hell _happened_ , anyway?” Gabriel demanded, brushing himself off.

“The, um… murder box,” Sam said, looking around them to see where it had ended up. “It’s one of the things you knocked off the shelf, I was afraid you were going to trigger it.”

“So you thought you’d dive on that grenade?” Gabriel snapped. His tone was sharp, dangerous, and Sam was going to address it, just as soon as he found the damn box and made sure everything was secure.

 _There_. It had bounced into the corner, off in the shadows. Gabriel evidently saw it at the same time, because he grunted and stepped around Sam to reach down and pick it up just as Sam realized the lid was ajar.

“ _No_!” Sam said, grabbing Gabriel’s shoulders and wrenching him backward. A cloud of black-purple smoke billowed out of the box and Sam got in front of Gabriel just in time for the smoke to hit him in the chest.

It _hurt_ , like he’d been kicked by a mule. Sam stumbled backward and Gabriel caught him as the purple smoke burrowed under Sam’s skin and he sat down hard, pulling Gabriel back to the floor with him.

“You fucking _idiot_ ,” Gabriel hissed, busy yanking Sam’s shirt up and looking for any sign of the smoke.

There was none. Sam’s chest was smooth, unmarked, but he was finding it harder and harder to breathe, like there was an anvil on his sternum. Pain was winding its way through his bones, freezing cold and making him shiver.

“G-gabe,” he managed through chattering teeth.

“I’m here,” Gabriel said into Sam’s hair. Sam was half in his lap, sprawled on the cold bunker floor, and Gabriel’s hands were weaving an intricate pattern above Sam’s chest. “All my years of living and I don’t think I’ve ever met _anyone_ as stupid as you.” A weak, fitful glow sprang up around Gabriel’s fingers and sputtered and sparked before dying away, and Gabriel swore viciously under his breath.

“Couldn’t… let it… get you,” Sam whispered. He felt for Gabriel’s hand. “’S’okay, Gabe, it doesn’t… hurt as much now.” That was a lie, but there were tears on Gabriel’s face, and that hurt Sam as much as the elephant on his chest.

“ _Cas_!” Gabriel roared. “Castiel, get your feathered ass down here _now_!”

The room was getting darker, Sam thought vaguely. “Sorry… Gabe,” he managed. He could taste blood in his mouth.

“What are you sorry for, you enormous moron?” Gabriel demanded, his voice thick.

The darkness closed over Sam’s head before he could reply.

 

He woke up even colder than before, teeth clicking as he shivered violently. The cold was like a living thing, crouching in the pit of his stomach, sending questing tendrils throughout his body and making Sam’s muscles lock up as he shuddered.

He was wrapped in blankets, he realized vaguely, and there was a warm body on either side of him. One of them was Dean, his weight and scent familiar, pressed up along the left side of Sam’s body. Sam turned his head a fraction and saw Gabriel, plastered against Sam’s right side, one hand resting on Sam’s heart.

Sam worked moisture into his mouth and tried to speak. “What…”

Dean lifted his head. “You’re doing your best to die of hypothermia in November,” he said, his mouth flat with tension.

“’M okay,” Sam managed.

“You’re a couple continents from okay,” Gabriel murmured, snuggling a little closer. “But we figured out we could slow down the freezing to death if we made you into a Samburrito.”

Sam’s eyelids were heavy and kept sliding shut.

“Does it still hurt?” Dean asked quietly.

Sam managed a short nod. There was no point in lying to Dean—he’d see through it in a heartbeat. The pain and the cold were all tangled together, twisted up in an enormous ball under Sam’s breastbone, stabbing through him every time he took a breath.

“Am I… dying?” he whispered.

“ _No_ ,” Gabriel and Dean said in unison. Gabriel shot Dean a look and continued. “Cas is looking for a cure, Sam. We’re going to figure this out, you understand? Your job is just to hang in there.”

“Don’t… want to die,” Sam admitted, fumbling under the blankets for Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel caught and twined their fingers together and squirmed a little closer again.

“We won’t let you,” Dean said, his voice quiet but fierce. “You hear me, Sam? You’re not dying.”

Sam’s eyes drifted shut again. “Don’t leave,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but it didn’t matter.

 

The next time he woke up, he couldn’t feel his feet. He managed to get his head up off the bed the barest inch and he could see them, a lump at the end of the mattress, under the pile of blankets, but he couldn’t _feel_ them, couldn’t wiggle his toes or even move anything below his knees, for that matter.

Panic clawed at Sam’s throat, fighting to break free, and he took a hitching breath, forcing it back. “Can’t— _help_ …”

Gabriel sat up, panic in his amber eyes, as Dean bolted upright on Sam’s other side.

“What is it?” Dean demanded, his hair standing on end.

“Toes,” Sam managed, “can’t… feel…”

Gabriel whipped the blanket back and started rubbing Sam’s foot. “Can you feel that?” he asked as Dean began rubbing Sam’s other foot.

Sam shook his head as a hot tear leaked down his face. He was going to die like this, trapped in a body that was dying by degrees. He couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

Castiel burst in the door and Dean sagged in relief.

“What’d Christian say?” he asked.

Castiel hurried to the bed and put a hand on Sam’s chest. The same glow that had appeared around Gabriel’s hand earlier now sprang up around Castiel’s fingers and Sam sucked in air as his feet abruptly regained feeling and set up a vicious pins-and-needles prickling.

“It’s temporary,” Castiel warned him. “I cannot fully heal you.” He turned to Dean, who was still rubbing Sam’s foot. “Christian said that particular spell is one her father did not work on, but his best friend and partner did. It is… complicated.”

“Well, spill it!” Dean snapped. “Kind of on an accelerated schedule here, pal.”

“Of course,” Castiel said, sinking into the chair beside the bed. There were dark shadows under his eyes, Sam noted vaguely, like he’d been up all night without rest. “The spell is designed to shut down the victim’s central nervous system by latching onto the brain stem. Sam’s body is beginning to fail him, and because of the way the spell is attached, it is impossible to disentangle it from the outside without killing Sam along with it.”

“ _No_ ,” Gabriel said from Sam’s other side, and Sam hadn’t heard him sound that angry, that _dangerous_ , since he’d faced Lucifer in that crappy motel all those years ago. His fingers bit into Sam’s foot and Sam made a pained noise. Gabriel let go immediately and rubbed soothing circles into Sam’s skin, staring at Castiel, who shifted his weight. “There has to be something we can do.”

“Christian said there was one other option,” Castiel said carefully. “But Sam won’t like it.”

“Tell me,” Sam whispered.

“Angelic possession,” Castiel said, dark blue eyes unhappy. “If an angel were to possess you, they could—”

“ _No_!” Gabriel shouted, and Sam flinched. Gabriel’s eyes were nearly glowing in their rage as they met Castiel’s. “It’s not happening, do you hear me?” he growled. “You’re not possessing him, Cas, _no one_ is.”

“Dean,” Sam whispered, and everyone turned to look at him. “Could you and Cas… give us a minute?”

Castiel stood up and Dean opened his mouth to protest, but no one said anything, and finally he sighed and climbed off the bed. Castiel took his arm and led him gently out the door as Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam, still flat on his back on the mattress.

Sam waited until the door was shut before patting the bed beside him. “Come here,” he said.

Gabriel folded his arms and looked obdurate, still kneeling by Sam’s feet. “You’re not talking me into thinking this is a good idea.”

Sam shivered, not entirely for show. “Still… so cold,” he managed. “Please, Gabriel…”

Gabriel’s nostrils flared and his mouth tightened, but then he crawled back up the bed and snugged himself in tight against Sam’s side. Sam wrapped his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders, biting back the whimper of pain that the movement caused, and buried his nose in Gabriel’s hair, breathing deep of papaya and coconut.

“Talk to me,” he whispered.

Gabriel was still for a minute and then he sighed. “Everything that’s happened to you—Meg, Lucifer, Gadreel, even fucking _Gary_ —”

Sam made a startled noise and Gabriel rubbed his nose against Sam’s chest. Amusement threaded his voice in spite of the situation. “Dean and I talk over beers some nights. He’s told me a few stories. Anyway, my point is, pretty sure I’ve never met anyone whose autonomy has been violated as often and as willfully as yours has, Sam. It makes my hair stand on end, and that’s coming from the guy who played pagan god for centuries for funsies.”

Sam’s eyes were drifting shut again, the cold taking root again. He yawned. “…’S your point?”

“My point is, no one’s violating your body again, not while I’m around to stop it,” Gabriel said flatly. “And usually I’d make a dirty joke about me being the only one allowed to violate your body, but I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind for it. Still, if Dean asks, I totally made that joke.”

Something Gabriel had said was niggling at the back of Sam’s mind, and he tugged Gabriel a little closer, splaying one hand along Gabriel’s ribs as he chased the idea down.

“What about… you?” Sam murmured.

Gabriel froze against him. “Don’t be stupid,” he finally said, pulling away so he could sit up. Sam made a protesting noise but let him go as the shivers set in again and Gabriel stared down at him. “I can barely heal a papercut, Sam, how am I supposed to heal something like this?”

Sam could barely speak through the tremors that were wracking his frame with full force, but he gritted his teeth and forced the words out. “Cas said… disentangled. What if… it’s like unpicking… a knot? What if… it doesn’t take strength… so much as… finesse?”

Gabriel was looking at him like Sam had grown an extra head. “You’re insane,” he finally said. “Archangels aren’t _built_ for finesse, Sam, we’re… nuclear warheads, not scalpels!”

Despite everything, the agony that made Sam want to sob and the cold that numbed him to his core and yet didn’t muffle the pain, Sam smiled at him. “Guess you’re… getting a crash course,” he managed.

Gabriel didn’t look mollified and Sam sighed. He reached up and tangled his hand in Gabriel’s button placket, tugging weakly. There was no way he should have been able to move the archangel, but Gabriel bent forward, bracing an hand on either side of Sam’s head.

“Wanted… to do… this… awhile,” Sam murmured, and pressed their lips together.

Gabriel was utterly frozen as Sam licked gently against the seam of his mouth, and then his lips parted and he groaned, deep in his chest, and slid his hands into Sam’s hair as he kissed him back.

“You don’t … know,” he panted when they broke for air. “Don’t know what you’re… asking, Sam.”

“Asking you to save my life,” Sam whispered, looking pleadingly up into Gabriel’s golden eyes. “Please, Gabe.” He could feel something pushing against the inside of his skull, a burgeoning pressure, and he knew he didn’t have much time. “I give you… permission,” he gasped, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he began to seize.

He was dimly aware of shouting, first Gabriel and then Dean adding his voice to the din, of cool hands on his forehead and a brilliant blue light behind his eyes that built until it was all he could see and feel.

Floating in the crystal blue light, Sam took an experimental breath and sighed with relief when it didn’t hurt. “Gabe?” he called.

“This is the _dumbest_ idea you’ve ever had,” Gabriel said from behind him, and somehow Sam spun to face him. Gabriel was leaning against a wall, hands in his pockets, his chestnut hair swept off his high forehead and his eyes almost glowing.

Sam looked around. They were standing in a big room with hardwood floors and warm yellow walls, and Sam could hear rushing water in the distance.

“Where are we?” he asked, smoothing the front of his shirt. _Fully corporeal again_ , he noted.

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow and pushed off the wall. “Your head, Samosa. Or a special sectioned-off part of your head, anyway.” He sauntered past Sam, trailing a finger along the huge couch in the middle of the room, toward the double doors at the far end.

Sam followed, still trying to find his bearings. Gabriel was standing on a patio, resting his elbows on a high stone parapet and gazing down into the river the burbled past just below them.

“Gotta hand it to you, Sam,” Gabriel mused, still staring into the water, “your head’s a pretty peaceful place to be. I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. After all the horrors you’ve seen, I kinda figured your brain would be a Nightmare on Elm Street special.”

“Are you possessing me?” Sam asked.

Gabriel turned to face him, leaning back against the wall, and lifted an elegant shoulder. “What there is of me is in you, yes,” he said. “I hope you’re not a size queen, because I’m not much to write home about right now.”

“Stop making _jokes_ ,” Sam growled, pacing forward, and Gabriel snapped his mouth shut, going very still. Sam’s eyes narrowed, watching him, and he took another step. Gabriel followed his movement with his eyes but he said nothing, and Sam ran his hands through his hair and spun away, frustrated. “How are you healing me and here _with_ me?” he asked over his shoulder.

When he glanced back, Gabriel had relaxed a fraction. “Multi-tasking, kiddo,” he said lightly. “I’m… unpicking the knot, as you put it, and another part of me is shielding you from the effects of the spell, and _that_ part might as well manifest like this so I can have the pleasure of your sparkling wit while I work.”

Something was wrong, and it went deeper than Sam dying from the murder box’s effects. Sam turned and advanced on Gabriel, who _flinched_ , recoiling backward, and Sam stopped like he’d been hit.

“Oh,” he said.

Gabriel swallowed hard and made an effort to speak. “Not… a good idea right now,” he managed.

“Right now?” Sam said, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around his midsection. “Or ever?”

Gabriel lifted his head and smiled at him, and Sam caught his breath at the archangel’s beauty. “Assuming you’re stupid enough to still feel this way when we get out of here,” Gabriel said, “believe me when I say we’re going to revisit this conversation. But right now I’m juggling about eighty-seven different things, including several grenades with their pins pulled and at least three unsheathed samurai swords, you know the kind that can cut silk that’s dropped across the blade? So, um… best if you don’t distract me.”

A smile bloomed slow and warm across Sam’s face. “To be continued,” he said, and Gabriel shivered at the dark promise in Sam’s tone. “In the meantime,” Sam said, turning in a circle, “what kind of range do I have here?”

“It’s your head, Samalicious,” Gabriel said, shrugging. “You could probably hike in the woods a bit before it dumped you back here. Best if you stick close, though—last thing I need is you wandering off while I’m trying to fix you.” He stopped and frowned.

Sam tensed at the look of concentration on Gabriel’s face. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Gabriel grunted and Sam took a step forward. Gabriel flung up a hand to stop him, his hair falling into his eyes as he focused on something _beyond_ Sam, frowning, and Sam froze in place, unsure what to do.

Finally Gabriel sagged and Sam lunged forward, catching him as Gabriel’s knees buckled. Gabriel gripped Sam’s shirt, breath coming hard and fast, and Sam swung him up into his arms, turning for the interior of the little cabin.

“I’m fine,” Gabriel protested, but Sam ignored this and settled him on one end of the couch, kneeling beside him. Gabriel crossed his arms and scowled at him, and Sam fought the impulse to kiss the glower away.

“What was that?” he asked instead.

Gabriel shrugged, but when it became clear Sam wasn’t moving until he got an answer, he sighed. “It’s not a… static spell,” he said.

“Which means…” Sam prompted.

“Which means that while I’m untying this stupid fucking knot, it’s busy retying itself, and going after your brainstem in new and ever more gruesome ways,” Gabriel snapped. “It’s figuring out how I operate and it’s taking shortcuts around my roadblocks.”

“So it’s alive?” Sam asked, sitting back on his heels as dread crept over him.

“Not… exactly,” Gabriel said. “But it’s semi-sentient, and it is _pissed_ at being stuck in its prison for so long _and_ being denied its prey, to wit, one very delicious younger Winchester. So it’s… fighting me.”

“What can I do?” Sam said.

“Don’t distract me,” Gabriel said flatly. He took a deep breath. “There’s a mirror in the bedroom. You’re too deep under to function in the waking world, but I set up the mirror sort of like one-way glass. You’ll be able to see Dean and Cassie while I’m working, make sure your brother’s not losing what few wits he has left.”

Sam pushed himself to his feet. “In that case, I’ll check on them and then—I don’t suppose there’s a library in this joint?”

“Your head,” Gabriel repeated. “You want a library, you can have a library.”

Sam smiled at him. “Then that’s where I’ll be.”

“Why?” Gabriel called after him, and Sam swung around in the doorway.

“Well, I figure it’s only fair that I work on your problem while you work on mine,” Sam said. Gabriel just looked more confused, so Sam clarified. “I’m going to see if I can find your grace,” he said, and left before Gabriel could respond.

His first stop was the bedroom, where he sat down on the end of the bed and watched Dean and Castiel in the mirror. Dean was holding Sam’s hand—and wasn’t _that_ just a trippy feeling, looking at his own unconscious body in the glass—and Castiel was saying something to him.

Dean looked up and Sam’s heart constricted at the naked fear in his brother’s eyes. His mouth moved and Sam realized that the mirror didn’t convey sound, and then he forgot everything as Castiel cupped Dean’s face in both hands and pressed their lips together.

Sam clapped a hand over his own mouth to stifle his triumphant noise, but he wasn’t successful, because a few seconds later, Gabriel skidded around the corner.

“What is it, what happened— _oh_ ,” he said, and grinned. “Fucking _finally_ , man.” He slapped Sam on the shoulder and turned to leave.

Sam stood up and watched Dean and Castiel for a minute longer, but eventually he began to feel like a peeping Tom and he tore himself away to go in search of the library.

He found it down a curving flight of stairs, the wood banister satin smooth under his hand as he descended the steps. The library was a huge room underneath the cabin’s foundations, reaching so far that the corners were lost to darkness. Sam gazed around, awed by the scope, still gripping the banister.

After a minute, he heard footsteps above him, and Gabriel came into view. He shrugged sheepishly when Sam looked up at him.

“Apparently it’s easier to do this when we’re in the same room,” he said, tugging his sweater down over his hands.

Sam looked at him for a minute as a stray thought tickled the back of his mind, but finally he just nodded. “Need anything from me?” he asked.

Gabriel shook his head and dropped into an overstuffed chair between shelves. “Just… stay where I can see you.”

Sam stood still for a minute, trying to figure out where to start. Finally he grabbed a book on dog breeds, sat down opposite Gabriel, and began to read. He could feel Gabriel sneaking peeks at him, but he pretended not to see them, struggling to concentrate on white Labradors and where they had originated.

“Canada,” Gabriel said helpfully.

Sam looked at him over the top of the book. “Can you—”

“Read your mind?” Gabriel said. “No. But your thought process is pretty obvious. Christian said she saw a white Lab, so maybe Metatron hid my grace in Canada, possibly around wherever the breed came from. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth checking out.”

“Yeah, but _where_ ,” Sam said, slumping in his chair and letting the book fall closed. “Canada’s a really big country, y’know.”

Gabriel made a sympathetic noise. “Keep looking, kiddo,” he advised.

“What if the Lab's a red herring?” Sam asked suddenly.

Gabriel blinked. “How, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, chasing the idea. “But what if Metatron planted the image of it to claim he provided a clue while being as deliberately obscure as possible? It would fit his twisty style.”

“True,” Gabriel said. “So what are you thinking?”

Sam shrugged a little helplessly. “Lab… coats? They’re usually white. Maybe your grace is in a lab coat somewhere. No, that’s stupid, and way too generic.”

“I think you’re on the right path, though,” Gabriel said. “In the meantime, I—” He broke off and clutched his head and Sam scrambled up and out of his chair to kneel in front of him.

“Gabe?” he said, rubbing Gabriel’s thighs. “Come back to me, Gabriel, c’mon, you can do it.” Gabriel’s muscles were rock-hard under Sam’s hands, and Sam fought down a surge of worry.

Finally Gabriel lifted his head, his eyes dazed. “Where—”

“You’re with me,” Sam said, the worry roaring back even stronger. “We’re… in my head, you’re undoing the murder box spell, remember?”

“Right, of course,” Gabriel said, rubbing his temples. “We were talking about… Canada.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. He was still kneeling in front of Gabriel’s chair, between his thighs, but he couldn’t make himself move. Gabriel still looked unsteady, slightly fragile, as if a hard knock would shatter him, and Sam found himself startled by the wave of protectiveness that swamped him.

“I’m fine,” Gabriel was saying, his voice peevish. “Stop _hovering_ , Sam.”

Sam pushed himself upright, letting the smile spread across his face. “If you’re bitching, you’re not on Death’s doorstep just yet.”

“This isn’t working,” Gabriel said, and Sam froze halfway to his feet.

“What does that mean?” he asked carefully.

“It means that you’re not getting better,” Gabriel said. “I have to change my approach, shake things up, maybe catch this fucker from behind. I don’t know, but I have to do _something_.” He looked up, into Sam’s face. “Sam, I need you to give me control of your body.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “I thought you already had it,” he said, easing back into the chair he’d been in before.

“Not really,” Gabriel said. “I mean, sort of. I’ve blocked you from your nervous system, so you’re not feeling any pain, but I need to… be in the driver’s seat, if you will.”

“You want to be in full control,” Sam said. “Like Gadreel was. Am I going to be in a nice little construct like I was with him, thinking everything’s hunky-dory, or will I get to see what you’re doing?”

Gabriel’s eyes were unhappy when they met Sam’s. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he said quietly. “It’s going to hurt like a motherfucker, and there’s no guarantee either of us will make it out. It’ll be a lot easier on you if you let me leave you here, in the library, where you can’t feel anything.”

Sam was shaking his head before Gabriel was done. “No,” he said. “No, I want to know what you’re doing. I want to _help_ , if I can.”

“You can’t!” Gabriel protested. “There’s nothing you can _do_ , Sam, except be in pain. How can you want that?”

“I don’t,” Sam said. “But the alternative is leaving you to fight this alone. And I won’t do that. I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Gabriel sighed. “You are one stubborn idiot, I’ll give you that. Okay, fine, maybe you can help anyway. Let’s do this.” He stood up and tugged on the sleeves of his sweater again, fixing Sam with a look. Sam stood too, chasing the tail of the thought he’d had before, and Gabriel’s eyes went sharp with worry.

“What is it?” he asked.

“This—” Sam gestured to the library, “—it’s all in my head, right?”

Gabriel nodded, wary.

“So our physical manifestations here are the way we see ourselves, would that be accurate?”

Gabriel nodded again and Sam smiled and took a step toward him.

“I just realized something,” he said, taking another step.

Gabriel watched him, his eyes guarded, and Sam closed the gap between them to grasp the cuff of Gabriel’s sweater and pull gently.

“This,” he said, pulling Gabriel toward him, “is my sweater.”

Gabriel said nothing, but his throat worked as he swallowed.

Sam cupped Gabriel’s face in both hands. “You’re wearing my sweater,” he whispered. “In my head, you’re wearing my sweater when you could be wearing—I don’t know—a bespoke suit or something.” He waited, but Gabriel said nothing, staring up at him as if mesmerized, and finally Sam dropped his head, capturing Gabriel’s mouth with his own.

He took his time, pressing forward soft and slow, as Gabriel’s lips parted and he sighed against Sam’s skin and began to kiss back in earnest. Their tongues dipped and slid together, sweet and heady, and Sam pushed in a little more forcefully, claiming Gabriel’s mouth for himself as Gabriel clung to him.

When they finally broke apart, Sam took an unsteady breath and ran his thumb over Gabriel’s kiss-swollen bottom lip.

“I just wanted to get that out of the way,” he murmured.

Gabriel’s eyes were unfocused and he swallowed several times. Eventually he just nodded, yanking on the hem of the sweater as if he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. “Brace yourself,” he said, and snapped his fingers.

 

Sam opened his eyes and stifled a groan and the urge to curl in on himself. The pain was back, roaring through his body, and the cold was right there with it, threatening to numb his fingers and toes, making him want to shake and weep with the enormity of it.

Dean jerked his head up. “Sam? Sammy, talk to me, are you okay?”

Sam pushed the agony down as Gabriel opened Sam’s mouth and spoke through him.

“He’s fine, Dean,” he said. “Well, not _fine_ , but he will be. Probably. Shut up and let me work.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Gabriel’s vessel, lying as still as death beside him on the bed. He couldn’t turn his head, though, couldn’t get a closer look, and he fought panic as his limbs refused to respond to him.

 _Sam_. Gabriel’s voice was calm and reassuring in Sam’s head. _Driver’s seat, remember? I’m driving this bus right now, but I’ll give you back control very soon, I promise. Just hang on a little longer. Okay?_

Sam struggled to fight through the terror and pain that tore at him. _Okay_ , he managed.

Dean was still talking urgently, but Sam barely heard him as Gabriel continued.

_You’re doing really well, kiddo. Can you pin down a source of the pain?_

Despite everything, Sam had to fight a huff of laughter. _How am I supposed to narrow it down?_

 _Fair enough_. Gabriel sounded rueful. _General location, at the very least?_

Sam fought to concentrate as Gabriel sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress.

 _You are one lanky bastard,_ Gabriel said, affection threading through his inner voice.

Sam was too busy still trying to find the source of the spell to answer, pushing through the cobwebs that covered his mind and fogged his thoughts. _There_. _Sternum,_ he told Gabriel. _Worse… there._

Dean had his hand on Sam’s arm, saying something, as Gabriel went silent. Sam discovered he had limited motion back, and he used it to say aloud, “Dude. _Busy_ ,” to Dean.

“Sorry,” Dean said, holding his hands up. “You’ve just been out for the better part of two days, and I was starting to get really worried, okay?”

“Gabriel’s… working on it,” Sam said through gritted teeth. _God_ , he hoped Gabriel was working on it.

A spike of pain surged through his chest and Sam gasped as Dean steadied him. The pain built, wrapping layer after layer of agony around Sam’s ribs, until even blinking hurt and he was breathing in tiny, shallow gasps in an effort to keep from moving too much.

Dimly, he thought he could hear chanting in a language he didn’t recognize. The rolling syllables sounded like Enochian, he realized, just as the voice— _Gabriel’s_ voice—built to a shout, spitting out the words with staccato precision, and the agony and cold vanished as if they’d never been and Sam fell backward onto the bed like a puppet with his strings cut, sprawled helplessly half across Gabriel’s still vessel.

Dean roared Castiel’s name and leaned over Sam’s limp body, peering into his eyes as Sam gasped for air, his lungs heaving like he’d just run a race.

“Talk to me, Sammy,” Dean said. “C’mon, baby brother, _talk_ to me, tell me you’re okay.” His voice cracked on the last word and he buried his face in the comforter by Sam’s head as Castiel came skidding into the room, worry naked on his features.

Dean looked up as Castiel approached, but Sam tuned them out, turning inward, looking desperately for Gabriel’s presence.

 _Gabe?_ His heart clutched when there was no answer. _Come on, Gabriel, please. Don’t you do this to me, you hear me?_

There was the faintest flicker deep in Sam’s mind and without thinking, he dove after it, not sure really what he was planning, just knowing that he couldn’t let Gabriel die, not when they finally had a chance.

But the light, the essence of Gabriel’s being, slithered through Sam’s metaphysical fingers when he reached for him, and he nearly sobbed aloud with frustration before he was struck with an idea.

“ _Cas_ ,” he said aloud.

Castiel leaned over him, his forehead wrinkled. “I’m here, Sam,” he said.

Sam clutched at Castiel’s sleeve. “Gabriel,” he panted, still absorbed in his struggle to keep Gabriel’s light from going out. “He put me in… a room. In my head. We were there while I was… unconscious.”

Castiel nodded. “It’s a fairly common practice when an angel possesses a human,” he said.

Sam brushed this aside. “Put me back there,” he begged. “ _Please_ , Cas, please, I’m losing him, I can’t—”

Castiel’s mouth tightened but he didn’t ask questions. He simply touched Sam’s forehead with two fingers and Sam’s world went black.

 

When he opened his eyes, he was back in the cabin and Gabriel was staring at him. Sam took two quick steps and yanked Gabriel into his arms, pulling him off his feet as Gabriel grunted in surprise.

“I thought you were dead,” Sam said into Gabriel’s throat. “I thought—”

Gabriel hesitated and then combed his fingers through Sam’s hair. When Sam lifted his head, Gabriel was smiling down at him, unshed tears shining in his eyes.

“Hey, Samshine,” he murmured. “Did we win?”

“Yeah,” Sam managed, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up. “Yeah, I think we did.” He reached up and tugged Gabriel’s head down until their lips met, losing himself in the comfortingly solid feeling of Gabriel’s mouth as they kissed.

 

It wasn’t that easy, of course. When Sam let Gabriel down, Gabriel staggered and Sam had to lunge to catch him before Gabriel’s body gave up on him completely.

“Sorry,” Gabriel panted, clinging to him. “Took… a lot out… of me.”

“Okay, easy, let’s get you comfortable,” Sam said, and half-carried Gabriel to the couch to settle him in the cushions. He knelt beside him, holding Gabriel’s hand, unwilling to forgo contact and even more unwilling to admit that Gabriel looked terrible. He was ashen, tinged grey, his breath coming in sharp gusts, dark circles under his eyes and sweat sheening on his skin.

“’ll be okay,” Gabriel whispered, closing his eyes. “Just… gotta rest.”

“Would it help if you were back in your own body?” Sam asked.

Gabriel shook his head a fraction of an inch. “Not… strong enough… to maintain… vessel right now,” he managed. He opened one eye just enough to see Sam’s face, and his lips curved a tiny bit. “Looks like… stuck with me. For… little while… ‘least.”

Relief choked Sam and he squeezed Gabriel’s hand. “I can live with that,” he said, his voice thick.

Silence fell as Sam watched Gabriel’s face, relaxing by degrees into sleep. A thought struck him and he shook Gabriel’s shoulder until Gabriel moaned and opened his eyes to glare at him.

“Is it safe for you to sleep?” Sam asked. “You’re not going to… I don’t know, fade away and disappear or die suddenly, are you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Gabriel said, his eyes softening. “Just… let me rest.”

“Okay,” Sam said, relaxing, and Gabriel smiled at him and fell asleep again as Sam watched him.

Sam stayed like that for a long time, still holding Gabriel’s hand, but eventually he sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He still had research to do, and Gabriel had said he’d be fine. He hesitated outside the bedroom, gnawing on his lip, wishing he’d thought to set up some form of communication with Dean or Castiel, but finally he shrugged to himself and headed for the library. Hopefully Gabriel would be able to let Castiel know he was okay when he woke up.

 

He buried himself in books, piling heaping armfuls on the table he found deep in the stacks and pulling over all the lamps he could find to give himself reading light.

Several hours passed and eventually he dozed off, his head pillowed on several books. The quiet sound of approaching feet on the bare floor woke him and Sam startled upright, disoriented, as Gabriel appeared, wrapped in a blanket.

“ _Hey_ ,” Sam said, jumping up and hurrying to him. “Sorry to leave you, but I was trying to maximize my time, how are you feeling?” He took Gabriel by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length to inspect him. “You look better,” he finally decided. “Your color’s coming back a bit and you don’t look so… grey.”

Gabriel squirmed until Sam let go and he was able to step forward and press his face against Sam’s chest. “Had kinda shitty dreams,” he said, his voice muffled by Sam’s shirt, “but I do feel better. How’d we get back here anyway? Last thing I remember, I was about to die and I was trying to think of heroic last words, and then we were suddenly… here.”

“I asked Cas for help,” Sam said, smiling against Gabriel’s soft hair. “It was kind of a last-ditch thing, but I couldn’t think of anything else to try.”

“Smart,” Gabriel commented, still plastered up against Sam’s body.

Sam wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s shoulders and they stood quietly for a minute, safe in the soft darkness of the library stacks.

“Oh!” Sam said suddenly, making Gabriel jump. “Sorry,” he said, lips twitching. “Um, we need to figure out a way to talk to Cas.”

Gabriel leaned back enough to peer up at Sam’s face. “Why?” he asked. “Why can’t we just stay like this for now?”

Sam put a finger under Gabriel’s chin and leaned down to kiss him, soft and slow. “Because,” he said when he drew away, “I think I found your grace, and I want Cas to go look and see if I’m right.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “ _Oh_ ,” he said. “Yeah, okay, we should do that.”

 

They headed back up the stairs to the bedroom and Gabriel traced several quick sigils on the glass of the mirror. “Now it’s two-way,” he explained as Castiel and Dean appeared, sitting hand in hand beside the bed where Gabriel and Sam still lay. Gabriel snorted quietly to himself and knocked on the glass until Dean looked up and saw them.

Dean’s eyes widened and he looked at the bed, then back to the mirror, then back at the bed again. Sam waved helpfully and Gabriel made impatient ‘hurry up’ gestures until Castiel rose and approached the mirror.

“Hey Cassie,” Gabriel said, grinning at him. “You’re looking good. Love agrees with you.”

Dean waffled, trapped between frantically inspecting Sam to make sure he looked healthy and giving Gabriel a death-glare to properly impress on him how inappropriate he was being.

Gabriel’s grin just widened as Sam stepped forward.

“Cas, I think I might have tracked Gabriel’s grace down,” he said. “I need you and Dean to go look for it, see if it’s where I think it is.”

Castiel nodded immediately. “Where are we going?”

“Mount Pearl, in Labrador,” Sam said, and Gabriel started to laugh.

“White Lab. Metatron, you sneaky _bastard_ ,” he said. “He must have been so proud of himself when he came up with that.”

“I think it’s likely to be somewhere in the local graveyard, possibly within the town founder’s gravesite,” Sam continued. “But be _careful_ , it’s almost certainly going to be booby-trapped.”

Castiel nodded. “I will go look and report back.” He disappeared with a flap of his wings and Dean looked Sam over more thoroughly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Sam said.

“I’m fine too!” Gabriel piped up, and Dean shot another glare at him. “Well, you didn’t ask, but I figured you were worried.”

“Behave,” Sam murmured, twining their fingers together. Dean followed the motion with his eyes and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Castiel appeared again, looking a little more disheveled than usual.

“You were right,” he said without preamble, and Gabriel punched the air with his free hand. “But it is heavily guarded and there are several traps that we will have to circumvent before we can retrieve the grace. It may take a few days.”

“That’s fine,” Gabriel said immediately. Sam glanced at him, surprised, and Gabriel just smiled up at him. “I don’t mind waiting a few days, Sam-a-lamb.”

“Gross,” Dean muttered.

 

They spent the rest of the day in Sam’s head, lounging on the bed and talking quietly, comparing notes. Sam kept their hands tangled together, lying on the bedspread between them. Gabriel fell asleep in the middle of one of their discussions, and Sam lay quietly, watching him sleep, tracing the curve of Gabriel’s cheekbone and the line of his jaw with his eyes. He ached to touch him, to pin him flat and devour him, but Gabriel was still exhausted, too depleted from fighting the spell, so Sam contented himself with memorizing Gabriel’s face and thinking of things he would do to him when Gabriel was feeling better.

When Gabriel woke up, he stretched and yawned and then leaned in to give Sam a quick kiss. “Sorry,” he said.

“What for?” Sam asked. “You were tired, you needed the sleep. Are you feeling any better?”

Gabriel nodded and kissed him again. “Much.”

Sam kissed him back willingly, but stopped him with a hand on his shoulder when Gabriel tried to deepen it. Gabriel glowered at him and Sam huffed a laugh.

“I was wondering,” he said, and trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.

“Just spill it,” Gabriel suggested.

“Is there something wrong with your wings?” Sam blurted.

Gabriel went utterly still and Sam flinched at the look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to answer, it’s just… you were really defensive when Christian asked about them, and if there’s anything I can do to help…”

Gabriel sighed. “There’s really not, but thank you for offering.” He sat up and took a deep breath. “It’s… not pretty,” he warned, and Sam nodded.

“Understood,” he said.

Gabriel closed his eyes, concentrating, and a second later, his wings blinked into sight. Sam stifled a gasp.   They were a _mess_ , the feathers broken and dull when they weren’t missing entirely, the browns that normally would be glowing golden instead a matte, almost colorless shade.

“Told you,” Gabriel said, his voice empty.

Sam looked up at him. “How do we fix them?” he asked.

“Getting my grace back will go a long way,” Gabriel said, tucking the wings back out of sight and folding his hands in his lap. “From there, it’s mostly a matter of grooming and proper nutrition.”

“Okay,” Sam said, scooting a little closer on the bed. “So… are you feeling up to going back to the bunker?”

Gabriel glanced at him. “You don’t like it here?”

“I love it here,” Sam said, and leaned forward to kiss him. “But Dean’s gotta be going out of his head with worry, and I’d like to put his mind at rest. Besides, I had an idea that I wanted to try out, but it requires us both being in my body.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes but finally he nodded and stood up to knock on the mirror and get Castiel’s attention.

 

Dean was, predictably, a nervous wreck. He hovered over Sam, asking him how he was feeling, if he was hungry, cold, or tired, until Gabriel snickered in the back of Sam’s mind.

_Regretting it yet, Samson?_

Sam bit back a snappy retort. _He’s just worried,_ he said mildly. _Once Cas gets back from Canada, he’ll have something else to focus on._ Out loud, he said, “I’m actually starving, Dean. Do you think…”

“Food!” Dean said. “ _Shit_ , we don’t have anything fresh in the bunker, we’re out of groceries, I was going to go shopping but then this whole thing happened and I didn’t want to leave. Um.”

“I can wait,” Sam said, smiling up at him from his seat on the bed. “I’ll be fine here if you want to go get something.”

“Are you _sure_?” Dean demanded.

It took several more minutes to convince him that Sam really was going to be okay, and Dean could leave him safely, but finally Dean was out the door and Sam could hear Baby’s engine rumbling as she started up.

“We have at least an hour,” Sam said, and stood up. His legs were a little shaky, but he’d been telling the truth—other than being hungry, he felt surprisingly good.

 _What are you doing?_ Gabriel asked.

“Going to your room,” Sam said, shuffling down the hall. He kept one hand on the wall to steady himself, just in case. “Because what I have in mind is just a little too weird next to your vessel, which isn’t even _breathing_.”

Gabriel huffed a quiet laugh. _It doesn’t need to breathe. Hell, I don’t really need to breathe when I’m in it, but I usually do anyway, because it creeps the humans out._

Sam grinned and pushed open the door to Gabriel’s room. He could feel his strength returning, his vitality and energy creeping back, and he took a deep, happy breath. “This is good,” he said aloud, shutting the door behind him.

 _What’s good?_ Gabriel demanded.

“You’ll see,” Sam said, and began to undress.

 _Oh._ Gabriel got very quiet then, and Sam smiled to himself and took his time, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it slide off his arms and then tugging his T-shirt up and over his head.

Bare to the waist, Sam looked down at his chest and let his hands wander, drifting along his clavicle and down to brush a nipple before skimming lower.

Gabriel was utterly silent, and Sam paused.

“Okay in there?” he asked.

_Shut up and keep going._

Sam laughed aloud and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down and stepping out of them. His cock was beginning to fill from sheer anticipation, thickening in his boxers, and he spared a quick minute to yank the boxers off as well before lying down on the bed and tucking one arm behind his head.

 _Stars and stones, you are beautiful_ , Gabriel murmured, honest admiration in his voice.

Sam couldn’t help it—he preened a little, stretching and flexing until Gabriel laughed in his head.

 _Okay, get on with it, stop showing off,_ he said.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this honestly happy, and despite Gabriel’s urging, he took his time, running his hand across his chest, finding a nipple and tweaking it, pinching and rolling until it was a stiff nub and he was gasping, his cock hard and aching, leaking against his stomach.

“Can you feel it?” he panted.

Gabriel hummed assent. _It’s sort of… muted, like through a layer of silk. But I feel what you’re feeling._

“Good,” Sam said, sliding his hand over to his other nipple and teasing it erect too.

 _Oh, the things I’m going to do to you,_ Gabriel whispered.

Sam shivered and took hold of himself, stroking slow and easy. “Like what?” he managed.

 _I’m going to ride you so hard you forget your own name,_ Gabriel murmured. _Gonna open myself up while you watch—but don’t touch—and then I’m going to fuck myself on your cock until you’re begging for it, until you can’t think of anything but me, ‘til you forget how to speak and you’re just whimpering, pleading for me to let you come. But I won’t—let you, that is. Not until I’m good and ready._

Sam shuddered, stroking harder. “You are _really_ good at the dirty talk,” he choked out. Bliss was coiling in his belly, arousal hot and heavy curling through his limbs, and he let his legs splay wide as he quickened his movements.

 _Had a few millennia to perfect it_ , Gabriel said, his voice amused. _You gonna come for me, Sammy? Been thinking about this too much, haven’t you? Thinking about what you want to do to me?_

Sam nodded, frantic, his hair falling into his face as he turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Gabe, I’m—”

 _Let it go,_ Gabriel crooned. _Let me see it._

Sam’s muscles seized and he sobbed aloud as he came in thick, heavy spurts onto his chest, trembling through the ecstasy as Gabriel whispered filthy encouragement.

 _That’s my sweet Sam,_ Gabriel murmured when Sam slumped back to the bed and drew a shaky breath. _Was it nice?_

Sam huffed an unsteady laugh. “You’re literally in my head, Gabe, you tell me.”

 _It’ll be even better when I have my body back,_ Gabriel promised him.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, pretending to be dubious as he searched for tissue to clean himself up. “This was pretty amazing, you’re going to have to really step it up to do better than this.”

 _Oh, I will_ , Gabriel said, and Sam laughed again, content for the first time in far too long.

 

Gabriel snuck down to the basement two weeks after he got his grace back. Sam and Dean had gone on a quick salt and burn an hour away, and Gabriel wanted to be ready when Sam got back.

He found what he was looking for easily, and came back up the steps to Sam’s room with his arms full. Castiel was emerging from the kitchen and his eyebrows shot up at the sight of Gabriel’s burden.

“Is that…”

“Not a word,” Gabriel said, and shut the door in Castiel’s face when he would have followed.

He set the load on the bed and pulled his clothes off before sitting down cross-legged to inspect his prize. He picked up a bronze cuff, turning it over in his fingers and reading the Enochian symbols.

“Pretty straightforward,” he said out loud, and snapped the cuff into place. Nothing happened, so he repeated the process on both ankles and then his other wrist. As he clicked the last cuff closed, his grace dimmed, suddenly hidden behind what felt like a wall of Plexiglas. He could see it in his head, but he couldn’t touch it, couldn’t access it in any way, and he hissed a sharp breath, rolling his shoulders, stretching against the discomfort.

“You can do this,” he told himself, and attached the cuffs to the headboard, pulling the ropes taut.

He lay quietly, struggling to calm his nerves, as footsteps sounded down the hall and Sam pushed the door open, freezing just inside the door as his eyes went wide.

“Might want to shut the door,” Gabriel said, his voice calmer than he felt. “Unless you want to give our brothers a show.”

Sam shut the door and turned back to Gabriel. “Are those the cuffs from the basement?” he asked, advancing on the bed.

“Give the boy a prize!” Gabriel said, smiling up at him. “I figured it was time to have a little _real_ fun.”

Sam leaned over the bed and trailed his finger along Gabriel’s stomach, making him shiver. “I already _have_ my prize, I think,” he murmured, his voice smoky and low.

He settled himself astride Gabriel's naked body and then leaned forward, bracing an elbow on either side of Gabriel's head, his eyes dark with intent.

"What do you want?" he whispered, so quietly Gabriel had to strain to hear him.

Gabriel pushed upward, rubbing his shaft against Sam's groin, eyes falling shut as pleasure and pain sparked along his nerve endings.

"What do you want?" Sam repeated, lifting his hips a little so that Gabriel couldn’t find the friction he so desperately needed.

Gabriel whimpered and opened his eyes. Sam lifted an eyebrow, holding perfectly still as he waited for a reply. It took Gabriel several millennia to sort through his scattered brain cells and find the ones pertaining to language, and Sam occupied himself by leaning forward and nosing along Gabriel's jaw.

"What," he nipped Gabriel's earlobe, "do," he sucked the lobe into his mouth, tongue laving the teeth marks, "you," his breath was hot and loud in Gabriel's ear, "want?" and he set to work sucking a livid bruise into the soft skin under Gabriel's ear.

Gabriel arched under him as language deserted him again, crying out wordlessly, but Sam didn’t stop until he was satisfied with the size of the mark. Only then did he sit back on Gabriel's thighs and lift an eyebrow again as Gabriel gasped for air.

"Gonna have to tell me, Gabriel," Sam said. "I'm not a mind reader."

"You," Gabriel finally got out. "Want... _you_ , Sam... _please_..."

Sam smiled. That was clearly what he’d been waiting to hear, and finally, _finally_ , he lowered his head and kissed Gabriel. His mouth was hot and wet and demanding, and Sam pressed inside as Gabriel opened for him, their tongues sliding against each other, so intense that Gabriel’s head spun.

When Sam broke the kiss, Gabriel whimpered. Sam’s mouth quirked up and he scooted backward until he was on Gabriel’s thighs. Gabriel pulled at his bonds again as Sam dropped his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth.

One of the things Gabriel loved the most about Sam was his laser-sharp focus. When he gave his attention to something, everything else ceased to exist. And at that moment, Sam’s world was apparently Gabriel’s nipple. He rolled it into a bud with his tongue, teasing and coaxing it and then nipping it sharply until Gabriel jerked and cried out at the stinging pain that only served to crank his arousal higher.

Sam licked the bite mark, his tongue soft and gentle, and moved to the other nipple, glancing up at Gabriel as he shifted his weight. There was mischief in his eyes, Gabriel saw, mischief and affection and arousal all mixed together, and then Sam’s mouth was on Gabriel’s skin and Gabriel lost his train of thought again.

Sam spent more time than Gabriel thought was strictly necessary torturing Gabriel, licking and nipping and downright biting his nipples, until they were a dark, angry red and Gabriel was nearly in tears of frustration, pulling uselessly at his bonds.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged. His cock _hurt_ , he was so turned on, dripping pre-come onto his belly, jerking with his every movement, and Gabriel thought distantly that if he wasn’t allowed to come soon, he might expire from lust.

Sam pressed a kiss to Gabriel’s abused nipple and then started moving lower and Gabriel nearly sobbed with gratitude as Sam dropped kisses along Gabriel’s stomach, following his treasure trail further down.

When Sam sucked the head of Gabriel’s cock into his mouth, it felt like coming home. Gabriel’s hips jerked upward and he babbled an apology but Sam just freed one hand to rub his thigh soothingly.

Sam’s mouth was tight and wet and perfect, his big hand stroking in perfect counter-rhythm as he bobbed his head, and it was a matter of minutes before Gabriel felt his orgasm gathering at the base of his spine.

He managed to choke something out and Sam pulled off, concern in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Gabriel tried to remember how to talk. “Was gonna… not yet.”

Sam’s eyes creased as he smiled, but he didn’t say anything—just dropped his head and swallowed Gabriel to the root. He brought Gabriel to the edge and then over in just a few quick, smooth movements, and Gabriel spilled helplessly into his mouth, sobbing something that sounded like Sam’s name as the pleasure shuddered through him.

Sam eased him through it before he pulled off and wiped his mouth, looking ridiculously pleased with himself, and Gabriel tried to muster the energy to glare at him.

“I wasn’t… ready for this… to be over,” he managed, and Sam’s smile widened.

“Who said anything about this being over?” he said, and he sucked Gabriel’s softening cock back into his mouth.

Gabriel was oversensitive, all his nerves still alight and tingling from his orgasm, and he cried out and bucked at the first brush of Sam’s tongue. It was good, so good, but it was too much at the same time, like the outer layer of his skin had been scraped away and he was left raw and tender.

Sam gentled his touch, suckling softly at just the head of Gabriel’s dick, tongue lapping quick and careful, and then, just as Gabriel was about to beg him to stop, or give him more, or _something_ , there was a slick finger nudging his entrance and Gabriel moaned and tried to spread his legs a little more.

Just like with everything else tonight, though, Sam was taking his time. He circled Gabriel’s pucker, finger catching on the rim, then up to press against his perineum as his mouth worked. He cupped Gabriel’s balls, rolling them delicately back and forth, and then moved down again.

Gabriel had no idea where Sam had even gotten the lube, but at this point he didn’t care. He was lost to sensation, sighing with relief as Sam finally pressed a finger in up to the first knuckle.

“More,” he said, turning his hands so he could grip the ropes that held him. He needed something to ground him, keep him from flying apart at the seams as Sam ignored him and inched further in. “Come on,” Gabriel said, a little louder. “Come _on_ , Sam. _More_.”

Sam pulled his finger out completely and looked up at him, arching one eyebrow.

Gabriel bit his lip. Sam didn’t move.

It was a test of wills, and it was probably no surprise that Gabriel broke first, as strung out as he was.

“Please?” he whispered.

“Please what?” Sam said. He dropped a light kiss on Gabriel’s knee as he waited.

“Want… you,” Gabriel managed, tugging futilely on the ropes again. “You’re in charge, I’ll be good, _please_ Sam, just… _please_ —”

Sam drove two fingers in without warning and Gabriel came up off the bed with a strangled sob as Sam began to work him open in quick, rough shoves.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, driving in hard again and crooking upward, grazing Gabriel’s prostate.

Gabriel writhed, already back to full hardness and desperate to come again.

“Falling apart on my fingers,” Sam continued, peppering Gabriel’s knee and thigh with butterfly-soft kisses between words, “begging and pleading—what you do to me, Gabe, you don’t even know, do you?”

He was up to four fingers now, thrusting deep and grinding against the bundle of nerves at Gabriel’s center with every third or fourth pass.

Gabriel was insensible, almost weeping, but he managed a wordless protest when Sam pulled his hand free and stood up.

He wasn’t going far, though. He crawled back onto the mattress next to Gabriel’s head and held his hand to Gabriel’s mouth.

“Clean it off,” he said.

Gabriel blinked up at him, the fog slowly lifting and the words coalescing in his brain, and then he opened his mouth and went to work sucking Sam’s fingers clean, one at a time.

He tasted like cherry-flavored lube, burnt sugar and something sharp and coppery, almost like blood. The combination of flavors burst on his tongue and Gabriel moaned, craning his neck to get a better angle, flicking his tongue into the web between Sam’s fingers and sucking each digit into his mouth one at a time.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, shifting his weight.

Gabriel only vaguely heard him, concentrating on making sure he’d gotten every last bit, and he protested when Sam pulled away.

Sam just smiled at him and stood up, yanking his clothes off with no particular finesse. Gabriel’s mouth watered and he clutched the ropes that bound him just a little tighter as Sam finally stood naked in front of him.

All long, muscled limbs and dark hair, Sam was the most beautiful man Gabriel had ever seen, and Gabriel was going to tell him that, soon, like when he’d figured out how to form complete sentences again.

Sam bent over Gabriel’s ankle, fiddling with the cuff. “If I take this off, will your powers come back?”

Gabriel dragged his brain into gear. “Undo… the rope,” he managed. “Leave cuff… on.”

Sam obeyed, untying the rope that lashed Gabriel to the bed but leaving the soft furred cuffs in place. With Gabriel’s legs free, Sam turned his attention to his wrists, glancing down at Gabriel’s face as he picked at the knots.

“So you’re still effectively human, right?” he murmured as he freed Gabriel’s left wrist and turned to his right.

Gabriel nodded, reaching out and caressing Sam’s cheek. Sam turned his face into it and pressed a kiss to Gabriel’s palm, his eyes soft.

“Good,” he said, “that means I can do _this_ ,” and before Gabriel could react, Sam had flipped him over so that Gabriel was on his stomach, facedown on the mattress, and less than a second later, Sam was on top of him, straddling his hips and pinning him in place.

Gabriel sucked in air, stunned, as Sam leaned down and bit the shell of Gabriel’s ear, not gently.

“Bring them out,” he ordered.

“What?” Gabriel managed, pushing his hips back into Sam’s weight.

“Your wings,” Sam crooned, nibbling the lobe now, breath hot and wanting as it thundered in Gabriel’s ear, “bring them out, Gabriel, I want to see them.”

Gabriel was still for a brief, frozen moment. It was true that even being bound like this, his powers stripped from him, he could still access his wings. They existed on another dimension, and it was a simple matter of reaching through the ether and _twisting_ , just so… but how did Sam know that?

That was a question for another time. Sam was heavy on Gabriel’s hips, his mouth still busy with Gabriel’s ear, and Gabriel didn’t have the brain cells to spare in teasing out the puzzle right now.

“Sit up,” he managed.

Sam obeyed instantly, and Gabriel closed his eyes, reached, and _pulled_. His wings spilled into existence, huge, silken and heavy, draping across Gabriel and the bed in a deluge of gold and brown and black.

Sam took a sharp breath and Gabriel glanced back over his shoulder.

“You can touch,” he murmured, amused.

Sam caressed an enormous primary, running his finger down it, and Gabriel took a hitching breath.

“They look so much better,” Sam whispered.

“Amazing, what proper… nutrition and care can do,” Gabriel managed. Sam’s finger felt like a live wire, like electricity dancing down Gabriel’s spine and setting him alight, nerves crackling.

Sam ran his fingers along the coverts near Gabriel’s shoulder blades, sinking his hands up to the wrists in the silken plumage, and Gabriel’s back bowed as he scrabbled at the sheets with a bitten off sob.

“Don’t stop,” he begged, “please, Sam—” His erection, which had flagged a little as they talked, was back with a will, and Gabriel rutted against the sheets in helpless undulations of his hips as Sam stroked his feathers from wing to tip. “Feels so good,” Gabriel gasped.

He could feel another orgasm building, a ball of heat growing in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t have a chance to get a warning out as Sam grasped a handful of pinions and _pulled_ , and for the second time that night Gabriel was overcome with pleasure, coming in helpless pulses against his stomach and all over the bed beneath him.

Sam didn’t wait for him to come down off the high this time. He swung off as Gabriel came and then yanked him to his knees, Gabriel’s face still buried in the mattress, and buried himself in Gabriel’s heat in one smooth thrust.

Gabriel bucked, sobbing, and Sam grabbed his hips, holding him steady as he began to fuck him in earnest, driving home in sharp, hard thrusts. Gabriel braced himself with his hands on the headboard above him as Sam pounded into him.

He was going to bruise, he knew. He also knew he was going to leave the bruises, let them heal human-slow, so that he could wear his mate’s marks with pride.

 _His mate_. Gabriel could barely think, exhausted and wrung dry, but he clung to those words as Sam leaned forward, hips still working, and fisted a hand in Gabriel’s hair, pulling his head back and exposing the line of his throat as he dragged Gabriel upright and pinned Gabriel’s wings between their bodies.

The sharp stinging of Gabriel’s scalp, combined with Sam punching deep yet again and grinding against his prostate, was enough to tip him over the edge a third time. He came dry, his body drained but bliss still flooding him, babbling something in Enochian, and he was dimly aware that Sam had tensed, biting down on the meat of Gabriel’s shoulder as he rode out his own orgasm.

Gabriel sagged back against Sam’s chest, his head lolling, and let the darkness close over his head.

 

He woke up clean, dry, and warm, the cuffs gone and his body aching pleasantly, and Sam’s arm draped across his waist.

Gabriel stretched and smiled as the movement awoke more nerve endings that complained about their abuse, and Sam stirred, lifting his head. Gabriel’s smile widened and Sam smiled back, leaning in for a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Sore,” Gabriel said.

Sam grimaced. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I got a little… carried away.”

Gabriel cupped Sam’s jaw, running his thumb over Sam’s cheekbone. “That’s the one and only time you _ever_ apologize to me for giving me three incredible orgasms in a row, you hear me?”

Sam smiled and Gabriel traced the line of his lips.   “You said something, right before you fainted,” Sam said.

Gabriel pulled his hand away and pointed at him. “Let’s get one thing straight—I did _not_ ‘faint’, you hear me? I might have briefly lost my grip on consciousness due to the aforementioned three orgasms in a row, but I definitely didn’t faint.”

Sam was grinning before he was done, and he leaned in to kiss him. “Noted and filed away for future reference,” he murmured against Gabriel’s lips.

“So what did I say?” Gabriel asked, stretching again and sighing happily. He felt wonderful—warm and sated and comfortable.

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Sam said. “It sounded like Enochian, but I don’t know enough of it to understand what you said. It sounded like… ‘joemalehmo’, I think?”

Gabriel froze and Sam’s eyes sharpened.

“What is it?” he asked. “What does it mean?”

“ _Jomalemo_ ,” Gabriel whispered. “Beloved.” He was afraid to look at Sam’s face. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said quickly. “People say stupid shit when they’re off their heads with amazing sex. It doesn’t mean—”

Sam put one long finger to Gabriel’s lips and Gabriel fell silent, staring at his feet under the blanket.

“It means that you love me as much as I love you,” Sam whispered, and Gabriel’s eyes snapped up to his. Sam smiled at him and a tear slid down his cheek.

“Sam,” Gabriel managed.

Sam shut him up with a kiss and Gabriel took a shaky breath and let go, sliding his hands into Sam’s hair and kissing back desperately as relief and joy suffused him.

 

A month later, they finally got around to watching Downton Abbey, and Gabriel sat bolt upright and said, “That sneaky little goatfucker!”

“What?” Sam demanded, pausing the DVD.

Gabriel pointed at the screen, paused on the image of Robert Crawley and his dog, walking up the hill. “Lab, Sam! White fucking lab! Right there on the screen, oh that fucking _twat_ , he must have thought he was so funny—he _knew_ I’d never seen Downton Abbey!”

Sam couldn’t help it. He dropped the remote and began to laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that every time you leave a comment, I get another kitten?


End file.
